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SPRING  SONG:    "  SOMER  IS   ICUMEN  IN" 
(Thirteenth  Century.) 

Middle-English  and  Latin  texts,  with  music,  irom  a  manuscript  in  the  British  Museum 


A  FIRST  VIEW  OF 

ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN 

LITERATURE 


BY 

WILLIAM  VAUGHN   NJOODY 
ROBERT   MORSS   LOVETT 

AND 

PERCY  H.  BOYNTON 


ILLUSTRATED 


CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

NEW  YORK  CHICAGO  BOSTON 


(.OPYRIGHT,    1905,    1909,   BY 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


PREFACE 

This  volume  is  based  upon  the  authors'  more  advanced 
History  of  English  Literature.  The  aim  has  been  to  pre- 
serve those  features  of  the  previous  book  which  have  most 
commended  themselves  to  high-school  and  academy  teach- 
ers, to  remove  everything  which  they  have  found  too  de- 
tailed or  too  difficult  for  their  students,  and  to  add  whatever 
was  suggested  by  their  friendly  criticism  as  likely  to  in- 
crease the  value  of  the  book  in  class-room  practice.  The 
literary  comment  has  been  simplified,  parti)'  by  omission, 
partly  by  the  substitution  of  explicit  statement  in  the  place 
of  what  was  before  only  suggested.  The  number  of  authors 
treated  has  been  much  reduced,  and  the  attention  of  the 
student  centred  exclusively  on  a  few  great  representative 
figures.  More  space  has  been  given  to  biography  and  de- 
scriptive sketches,  especially  in  the  later  periods.  Each  main 
epoch  has  been  prefaced  by  a  full  historical  introduction, 
and  summarized  in  the  form  of  a  review-commentary  and 
questions,  together  with  tabular  views.  Suggestions  con- 
cerning the  best  available  texts,  and  the  best  biographical 
and  critical  aids  to  study,  are  given  at  the  close  of  each 
chapter.  A  number  of  portraits  are  added,  taken  in  each 
case  from  an  authentic  source.  For  purposes  of  fuller  refer- 
ence, some  authors  not  treated  in  the  text  are  included  in  the 
tabular  views. 

The  thanks  of  the  authors  are  due  to  the  many  teachers, 
in  all  parts  of  the  country,  who  have,  either  personally  or 
by  letter,  generously  aided  them  in  their  effort  to  give  a 


vi  Preface 

"  first  view  "  of  English  literature  which  should  be  at  once  a 
practical  manual  adapted  to  the  routine  work  of  the  class- 
room, and  an  unfolding  story  whose  intrinsic  interest  should 
claim  the  student's  willing  attention.  The  authors  also  de- 
sire to  thank  Scott,  Foresman,  and  Company  for  permission 
to  include  in  the  text  two  or  three  paragraphs  originally 
written  for  their  school  edition  of  Coleridge's  "Ancient 
Mariner,"  and  the  Macmillan  Company  for  permission  to 
reproduce,  from  Garnett  and  Gosse's  English  Literature : 
■  an  Illustrated  Record,  the  manuscript  facsimile  which  forms 
the  frontispiece  of  the  present  volume. 


CONTENTS 
ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     Old   English   Period:    Anglo-Saxon    Literature    on 

the  Continent i 

II.     Old    English    Period:    Anglo-Saxon    Literature    in 

England 10 

III.  Middle    English    Period:    From    the    Norman   Con- 

quest to  Chaucer 25 

IV.  Middle  English  Period:   The  Age  of  Chaucer  .        .      39 

V.     The  Renaissance:   Non-Dramatic  Literature  to  the 

Death  of  Elizabeth 64 

VI.     The  Renaissance:  The  Drama  before  Shakespeare   .      90 

VII.     Shakespeare  and  His  Fellow  Dramatists    .        .        .     106 

VIII.     The    Seventeenth    Century:    From    the    Death    of 

Elizabeth  to  the  Restoration        .  .  129 

IX.     The  Seventeenth  Century:   The  Restoration    .        .     160 

X.     The  Eighteenth  Century:   The  Reign  of  Classicism     174 

XL     The  Eighteenth-Century  Novel 209 

XII.     The  Eighteenth   Century:   The  Revival  of  Roman- 
ticism    224 

XIII.  The  Nineteenth  Century:   The  Triumph  of  Roman- 

ticism     241 

XIV.  The  Nineteenth  Century:  The  Victorian  Age.        .    288 
XV.     The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 335 

XVI.     A  Glance  in  Review 369 


viii  Contents 

AMERICAN  LITERATURE 

CRN  ITER  PAGE 

I.    American  Literature  Before  1800 377 

IL    New  York  and  the  Knickerbockers 400 

III.  A  Group  of  Spiritual  Leaders 413 

IV.  The  Popular  Spokesmen  of  the  Mid-Century         .        .433 
V.  Poe,  Whitmen,  and  the  Southern  Poets   .        .        .        .451 

VL    American  Fiction  Since  i860       ......    466 


Index 


477 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


Spring  Song:    "  Somer  is  I  Cumen  in"  (Thirteenth  Cent- 
ury)   ..........         Frontispiece 

Middle-English  and  Latin  texts,  with  music,  from  a  manuscript  in  the  British 
Museum 

PAGE 

Geoffrey  Chaucer 38 

From  the  Occleye  manuscript 

Sir  Philip  Sidney  .        .  « 74 

From  the  miniature  by  Isaac  Oliver,  in  the  Royal  Library  at  Windsor  Castle 

Edmund  Spenser .        .        .80 

From  an  original  picture  in  the  possession  of  the  Earl  of  Kinnoull 

William  Shakespeare 107 

From  the  Chandos  portrait 

Sir  Francis  Bacon 132 

From  an  engraving  by  I.  Houbraken 

John  Milton 140 

From  an  engraving  by  Humphreys  after  the  Faithorne  portrait 

John  Dryden 164 

Joseph  Addison 182 

From  a  painting  by  G.  Kneller,  S.  R. 

Alexander  Pope 189 

From  a  painting  by  A.  Pond 

Dr.  Samuel  Johnson 194 

From  a  painting  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 

Oliver  Goldsmith 198 

After  a  painting  by  a  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 


x  List  of  Illustrations 

RAGS 

Robert  Burns 231 

From  a  painting  by  Nasmyth 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge 245 

From  a  painting  by  Washington  Allston 

William  Wordsworth 251 

From  a  painting  by  W.  Boxall 

Lord  Byron 261 

From  a  painting  by  J.  Phillips,  R.  A. 

Percy  Bysshe  Shelley 267 

From  a  painting  by  Geo.  Clint,  R.  A. 

John  Keats 275 

From  a  painting  by  Joseph  Severn 

Thomas  Carlyle 297 

From  a  painting  by  Whistler 

Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson 305 

After  a  painting  by  G.  F.  Watts 

Robert  Browning 313 

From  a  painting  by  G.  F.  Watts 

Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning 321 

From  a  drawing  by  Field  Talfourd,  Rome,  March,  1859 

Sir  Walter  Scott 339 

From  a  painting  by  C.  R.  Leslie,  R.  A. 

Charles  Dickens 347 

William  Makepeace  Thackeray 351 

From  a  drawing  by  George  T.  Tobin 

George  Eliot 359 

From  a  drawing  by  F.  W.  Burton 


List  of  Illustrations  xi 

PAGE 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson 419 

From  a  Photograph,  Copyright,  by  Elliot  and  Fry 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne 427 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow 446 

From  a  Photograph,  Copyright,  by  London  Stereoscopic  Company 

Walt  Whitman 459 


ENGLISH   LITERATURE 


CHAPTER   I 

OLD-ENGLISH   PERIOD:  ANGLO-SAXON  LITER- 
ATURE  ON  THE   CONTINENT 

I.  THE  EARLIEST  HOME  OF  THE  ENGLISH. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  Tribes. — To  find  the  beginnings  of  Eng- 
lish literature  we  must  go  back  to  a  time  when  the  ancestors 
of  the  English  people  lived  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  and 
spoke  a  tongue  which,  though  related  in  its  roots  to  modern 
English,  is  unintelligible  to  us  without  special  study.  Anglo- 
Saxon,  or  Old  English,  belongs  to  the  Low- German  family  of 
languages,  of  which  Dutch  is  the  best  modern  representa- 
tive ;  and  the  men  who  spoke  it  lived,  when  history  first  dis- 
covers them,  along  the  German  ocean  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Rhine  to  the  peninsula  of  Jutland.  They  were  divided  into 
three  principal  branches:  the  Saxons,  dwelling  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Elbe;  the  Angles,  inhabiting  the  southwest 
part  of  Denmark;  and  the  Jutes,  whose  territory  extended 
north  of  the  Angles  into  modern  Jutland. 

Anglo-Saxon  War  and  Seafaring. — How  extensive  these 
tribes  were,  and  how  far  into  the  interior  their  territories 
reached,  we  do  not  know.  That  portion  of  them  which  con- 
cerns us,  dwelt  along  the  sea.  Their  early  poetry  gives 
glimpses  of  little  tribal  or  family  settlements,  bounded  on 
one  side  by  wild  moors  and  dense  forests,  where  dwelt  mon- 
strous creatures  of  mist  and  darkness,  and  on  the  other  by 
the  stormy  northern  ocean,  filled  likewise  with  shapes  of 


2  Old  English  Period 

shadowy  fear.  As  soon  as  spring  had  unlocked  the  har- 
bors, their  boats  would  push  out  in  search  of  booty  and  ad- 
venture: sometimes  to  wreak  blood-feud  on  a  neighboring 
tribe,  sometimes  to  plunder  a  monastery  on  the  seaboard  of 
Roman  Gaul,  or  to  coast  along  the  white  cliffs  of  England, 
their  future  home.  This  seafaring  life,  full  of  danger  and 
change,  was  the  fruitful  source  of  early  poetry.  Whenever 
an  Anglo-Saxon  poet  mentions  the  sea  his  lines  kindle ;  it  is 
the  "swan-road,"  the  "sealbath,"  the  "path  of  the  whales." 
The  ship  is  the  "sea-steed,"  the  "wave-house  of  warriors"; 
its  keel  is  "wreathed  with  foam  like  the  neck  of  a  swan." 
The  darker  aspects  of  the  sea  are  given  with  the  same  fer- 
vor. It  is  characteristic  of  the  grim  nature  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  that  he  should  fill  with  terror  and  gloom  the  ele- 
ment which  he  most  loved  to  inhabit. 

Anglo-Saxon  Religion. — The  poetry  which  has  come  down 
to  us  from  this  early  period  has  been  worked  over  by  later 
hands  and  given  a  Christian  coloring.  But  from  other  sources 
we  know  who  were  the  primitive  gods  of  the  race:  Tiu,  a  mys- 
terious and  dreadful  deity  of  war;  Woden,  father  of  the  later 
dynasty  of  gods,  and  patron  of  seers  and  travellers;  Thor, 
the  god  of  thunder;  Frea,  mother  of  the  gods  and  giver  of 
fruitfulness.  These  are  commemorated  in  our  names  for 
the  days  of  the  week,  Tuesday,  Wednesday,  Thursday,  and 
Friday.  The  rites  of  Eostre,  a  mysterious  goddess  of  the 
dawn,  survive,  though  strangely  altered,  in  the  Christian 
festival  of  Easter.  In  studying  the  early  poetry,  we  must 
put  out  of  our  minds,  as  far  as  we  can,  all  those  ideals  of  life 
and  conduct  which  come  from  Christianity,  and  remember 
that  we  have  to  do  with  men  whose  gods  were  only  magni- 
fied images  of  their  own  wild  natures:  men  who  delighted 
in  bloodshed  and  in  plunder,  and  were  much  given  to  deep 
drinking  in  the  mead-hall;  but  who  nevertheless  were  sen- 
sitive to  blame  and  praise,  were  full  of  rude  chivalry  and 
dignity,  and  were  alert  to  the  poetry  of  life,  to  its  mystery  and 
its  pathos. ' 

Anglo-Saxon  Love  of  Fame. — Our  Anglo-Saxon  ances- 
tors had  in  an  eminent  degree  also  that  passion  which 
gives  the  first  impulse  to  literature  among  a  primitive  people 


Earliest  Home  of  the  English  8 

— love  of  glory.  When  the  first  recorded  hero  of  the  race, 
Beowulf,  has  met  his  death,  and  his  followers  are  recalling 
his  noble  nature,  they  say  as  their  last  word  that  "he  was  of 
all  world-kings  the  most  desirous  of  praise."  It  was  not 
enough  for  such  men  as  he  that  they  should  spend  their  lives 
in  glorious  adventures ;  they  desired  to  see  their  names  and 
their  deeds  spread  among  distant  peoples  and  handed  down 
to  unborn  generations.  Hence  the  poet,  who  alone  could 
insure  this  fame,  was  held  in  high  esteem. 

The  Gleeman  and  the  Scdp. — Two  classes  of  singers  were 
recognized,  first  the  gleeman  (gledmari),  who  did  not  create 
his  own  songs,  but  merely  chanted  what  he  had  learned  from 
others;  and  second  the  scop,  the  poet  proper,  who  took  the 
crude  material  of  history  and  legend  which  lay  about  him, 
and  shaped  it  into  song.  Sometimes  the  sc6p  was  perma- 
nently attached  to  the  court  of  an  aetheling,  or  lord,  was 
granted  land  and  treasure,  and  was  raised  by  virtue  of  his 
poet-craft  to  the  same  position  of  honor  which  the  other  fol- 
lowers of  the  aetheling  held  by  virtue  of  their  prowess  in  battle. 
Sometimes  he  wandered  from  court  to  court,  depending  for  a 
hospitable  reception  upon  the  curiosity  of  his  host  concerning 
the  stories  he  had  to  chant.  Two  very  ancient  bits  of  poetry 
tell  of  the  fortunes  of  the  scop.  One  of  them  deals  with  the 
wandering  and  the  other  with  the  stationary  singer. 

"Widsith." — The  first  is  the  fragment  known  as  "  Widsith," 
or  "  The  Far- wanderer."  The  poem  opens, — "  Widsith  spake, 
unlocked  his  word-hoard ;  he  who  many  a  tribe  had  met  on 
earth,  who  had  travelled  through  many  a  folk."  Then  fol- 
lows a  list  of  famous  princes  of  the  past,  an  enumeration  of 
the  various  peoples  and  countries  which  the  bard  has  visited, 
and  praises  of  those  princes  who  have  entertained  him  gen- 
erously. He  declares  that  he  has  been  "with  Caesar,*  who 
had  sway  over  the  joyous  cities,"  and  even  with  the  Israel- 
ites, the  Egyptians,  and  the  Indians.  The  poem  ends  with  a 
general  description  of  the  wandering  singer's  life,  touched  at 
the  close  with  the  melancholy  which  occurs  so  often  in 
Anglo-Saxon    poetry; — "Thus  roving,  with  song-deices  wan- 

*  "Caesar"  was  a  general  name  for  the  Roman  emperors;  compare  the 
German  "Kaiser." 


4  Old  English  Period 

der  the  gleemen  through  many  lands.  .  .  .  Ever  north 
or  south  they  find  one  knowing  in  songs  and  liberal  of  gifts, 
who  before  his  court  will  exalt  his  grandeur  and  show  his 
earl-ship;  until  all  departs,  light  and  life  together."  This 
fragment  has  been  held  by  some  scholars  to  date,  in  part 
at  least,  from  the  fourth  century.  If  so  it  is  the  oldest  bit 
of  verse  in  any  modem  language,  and  with  it  English  litera- 
ture "unlocks  its  word-hoard." 

"  Deor's  Lament." — The  second  of  these  poems  dealing 
with  the  fortunes  of  the  scop  is  probably  not  nearly  so  old. 
It  is  called  "Deor's  Lament,"  and  again  the  poet  himself 
speaks.  His  skill  has  been  eclipsed  by  another  singer,  Heor- 
renda,  and  his  lord  has  taken  away  from  him  his  land-right 
and  his  place  at  court,  in  order  to  bestow  them  upon  the  suc- 
cessful rival.  The  poet  comforts  himself  by  recalling  other 
misfortunes  which  men  and  women  in  past  time  have  lived 
to  overcome,  and  ends  each  rude  strophe  with  the  refrain, 
"That  he  endured,  this  also  may  I."  The  personal  nature 
of  the  theme,  the  plaintive  sadness  of  the  tone,  and  above 
all  the  refrain,  give  the  poem  extraordinary  interest.  It 
has  been  called  the  first  English  lyric. 

II.   BEOWULF,  THE  ANGLO-SAXON  EPIC 

Original  form  of  "  Beowulf." — Beowulf,  the  most  im- 
portant work  which  remains  to  us  from  the  pagan  period 
of  Anglo-Saxon  poetry,  in  all  likelihood  existed  at  first  in 
the  form  of  short  songs,  which  were  sung  among  the  Angles 
and  Jutes,  inhabiting  what  is  now  Denmark,  and  among 
the  Goths  in  southern  Sweden.  Probably  as  early  as  the 
sixth  century  these  lays  had  begun  to  be  welded  together, 
but  just  when  the  poem  took  its  present  form  we  do  not 
know.*  It  contains  something  over  three  thousand  lines. 
The  story  of  the  poem  is  as  follows : — 

The  Story  of  Beowulf:  Hrothgar  and  Grendel. — Hroth- 
gar,  king  of  the  West-Danes,   has  built  for  himself  near 

*  In  all  probability  the  development  of  "  Beowulf "  into  a  complete  poem 
took  place  largely  on  English  soil,  and  was  completed  by  the  end  of  the 
eighth  centuiy. 


Beowulf  5 

the  sea  a  great  hall,  named  Heorot,  where  he  may  sit 
with  his  thanes  at  the  mead-drinking,  and  listen  to  the 
chanting  of  the  gleemen.  For  a  while  he  lives  in  happi- 
ness, and  is  known  far  and  wide  as  a  splendid  and  liberal 
prince.  But  one  night  there  comes  from  the  wild  march- 
land,  the  haunt  of  all  unearthly  and  malign  creatures,  a 
terrible  monster  named  Grendel.  Entering  the  mead-hall 
he  slays  thirty  of  the  sleeping  Danes,  and  carries  their 
corpses  away  to  his  lair.  The  next  night  the  same  thing 
is  repeated.  No  mortal  power  seems  able  to  cope  with 
the  gigantic  foe.  In  the  winter  nights  Grendel  couches  in 
the  splendid  hall,  defiling  all  its  bright  ornaments.  For 
twelve  winters  this  scourge  afflicts  the  West-Danes,  until 
Hrothgar's  spirit  is  broken. 

The  Coming  of  Beowulf. — At  last  the  story  of  Gren- 
del's  deeds  crosses  the  sea  to  Gothland,  where  young  Beo- 
wulf dwells  at  the  court  of  his  uncle,  King  Hygelac. 
Beowulf  determines  to  go  to  Hrothgar's  assistance;  With 
fifteen  companions  he  embarks.  "  Departed  then  over  the 
wavy  sea  the  foamy-necked  floater,  most  like  to  a  bird." 
At  dawn  of  the  second  day  the  voyagers  catch  sight  of 
the  promontories  of  Hrothgar's  land;  and  soon,  from  the 
top  of  the  cliffs,  they  behold  in  the  vale  beneath  them 
the  famous  hall,  "rich  and  gold- variegated,  most  glorious 
of  dwellings  under  the  firmament."  The  young  heroes 
in  their  "shining  war  byrnies,"  *  and  with  their  spears  like 
a  "grey  ashwood  above  their  heads,"  are  ushered  into  the 
hall  "where  old  Hrothgar  sits  amid  his  band  of  earls."  Beo- 
wulf craves  permission  to  cleanse  Heorot  of  its  pest,  and 
Hrothgar  consents  that  the  Goths  shall  abide  GrendePs 
coming,  in  the  hall  that  night.  Meanwhile,  until  dark- 
ness draws  on,  the  thanes  of  Hrothgar  and  the  followers 
of  Beowulf  sit  drinking  mead,  "the  bright  sweet  liquor," 
and  listening  to  the  songs  of  the  gleeman.  The  feast 
draws  to  a  close  when  Wealtheow,  Hrothgar's  queen, 
after  solemnly  handing  the  mead-cup  to  her  lord  and  to 
Beowulf,  and  bidding  them  "be  blithe  at  the  beer-drink- 
ing*" goes  through  the  hall  distributing  gifts  among  the 

*  Corselets  of  mail. 


6  Old  English  Period 

thanes.  The  king,  queen,  and  their  followers  then  with- 
draw to  another  building  for  the  night,  while  Beowulf 
and  his  men  lie  down,  each  with  his  armor  hung  on  the 
nail  above  his  head,  to  wait  for  the  coming  of  Grendel. 
All  fall  asleep  except  Beowulf,  who  "awaits  in  angry  mood 
the  battle-meeting." 

Beowulf's  Fight  with  Grendel. — The  coming  of  the 
monster  is  described  with  grewsome  force.  "Then  came 
from  the  moors,  under  the  misty  hills,  Grendel  stalking. 
Straightway  he  rushed  on  the  door,  fast  with  fire-hardened 
bands.  On  the  variegated  floor  the  fiend  trod;  he  went 
wroth  of  mood,  from  his  eyes  stood  a  horrid  light  like 
flame."  He  seizes  one  of  the  warriors,  bites  his  "bone- 
casings,"  drinks  the  blood  from  his  veins,  and  greedily 
devours  him  even  to  the  hands  and  feet.  Next  he  makes 
for  Beowulf,  but  the  hero  seizes  the  fiend  with  such  a 
mighty  hand-grip  that  he  is  terror-stricken  and  turns  to 
flee.  Beowulf  keeps  his  hold,  and  a  fearful  struggle  be- 
gins. At  last  the  monster  wrenches  his  own  arm  from  its 
socket  and  flees  to  his  lair  to  die. 

In  the  morning  there  is  great  rejoicing.  The  king,  and 
the  queen,  with  a  company  of  maidens,  come  through  the 
meadows  to  gaze  in  wonder  on  the  huge  arm  and  claw 
nailed  beneath  the  gold  roof  of  the  hall.  When  the  even- 
ing feast  begins,  Beowulf  sits  between  the  two  sons  of  the 
king,  and  receives  the  precious  gifts, — jewels,  rings,  and  a 
golden  necklace, — which  the  queen  presents  to  him.  But 
at  nightfall,  when  the  warriors  have  again  lain  down  tc 
sleep  in  the  hall,  Grendel's  mother  comes  to  take  ven- 
geance for  her  son.  She  seizes  one  of  Hrothgar's  nobles, 
Aeschere,  and  bears  him  away  to  her  watery  den. 

Beowulf 's  Fight  beneath  the  Sea. — Beowulf  vows  to 
seek  the  new  foe  at  the  bottom  of  her  fen-pool,  and 
there  grapple  with  her.  With  Hrothgar  and  a  band  of 
followers  he  goes  along  the  cliffs  and  windy  promontories 
which  bound  the  moor  on  the  seaward  side,  until  he  comes 
to  Grendel's  lair.  It  is  a  sea-pool,  shut  in  by  precipitous 
rocks,  and  overhung  by  the  shaggy  trunks  and  aged  boughs 
of  a  "joyless  wood."    Trembling  passers-by  have  seen  fire 


Beowulf  7 

fleeting  on  the  waves  at  night,  and  the  hart  wearied  by  the 
hounds  will  lie  down  and  die  on  these  banks  rather  than 
plunge  into  the  unholy  waters.  The  pool  is  so  deep  that  it 
is  a  day's  space  before  Beowulf  reaches  the  bottom.  Snakes 
and  beasts  of  the  shining  deep  make  war  on  him  as  he  de- 
scends. At  last  he  finds  himself  in  a  submarine  cave  where 
the  "mere- wife"  is  lurking,  and  a  ghastly  struggle  begins. 
Once  the  giantess  throws  Beowulf  to  the  ground,  and  sit- 
ting astride  his  body  draws  out  her  broad  short  knife  to  de- 
spatch him.  But  with  a  superhuman  effort  he  struggles  up 
again,  throws  away  his  broken  sword  and  seizes  from  a 
heap  of  arms  a  magic  blade,  forged  by  giants  of  old  time. 
With  it  he  hews  off  the  head  of  Grendel's  mother,  and  then 
that  of  Grendel,  whose  dead  body  he  finds  lying  in  the  cave. 
So  poisonous  is  the  blood  of  Grendel  that  it  melts  the  metal 
of  the  blade,  leaving  only  the  curved  hilt  in  Beowulf's  hand. 
When  he  reappears  with  his  trophies  at  the  surface  of  the 
water,  all  have  given  him  up  for  dead.  Great  is  the  jubila- 
tion when  the  hero  returns  to  the  mead-hall  with  his  thanes, 
and  throws  upon  the  floor  the  two  gigantic  heads,  which 
four  men  apiece  can  hardly  carry. 

Beowulf  and  the  Fire-Dragon. — The  second  great  epi- 
sode of  the  poem  is  Beowulf's  fight  with  the  Dragon  of 
the  Gold-hoard.  Beowulf  has  been  reigning  as  king  for 
fifty  years,  and  is  now  an  old  man,  when  calamity  comes 
upon  him  and  his  people  in  the  shape  of  a  monster  of  the 
serpent-kind,  which  flies  by  night  enveloped  in  fire ;  and 
which,  in  revenge  for  the  theft  of  a  gold  cup  from  its  pre- 
cious hoard,  burns  the  king's  hall.  Old  as  he  is,  Beo- 
wulf fights  the  dragon  single-handed.  He  slays  the  mon- 
ster in  its  lair,  but  himself  receives  his  mortal  hurt. 

The  Death  of  Beowulf. — The  death  of  the  old  king  is 
picturesque  and  touching.  He  bids  his  thane  bring  out 
from  the  dragon's  den  "  the  gold-treasure,  the  jewels,  the 
curious  gems,"  in  order  that  death  may  be  softer  to  him, 
seeing  the  wealth  he  has  gained  for  his  people.  Wiglaf, 
entering  the  cave  of  the  "old  twilight-flier,"  sees  "dishes 
standing,  vessels  of  men  of  yore,  footless,  their  orna- 
ments fallen  away ;  there  was  many  a  helm  old  and  rusty 


8  Old  English  Period 

and  many  armlets  cunningly  fastened,"  and  over  the 
hoard  droops  a  magic  banner,  "all  golden,  locked  by  arts 
of  song,"  from  which  a  light  is  shed  over  the  treasure. 
Beowulf  gazes  with  dying  eyes  upon  the  precious  things ; 
then  he  asks  that  his  thanes  build  for  him  a  funeral  bar- 
row on  a  promontory  of  the  sea,  which  the  sailors,  as 
they  "drive  their  foaming  barks  from  afar  over  the  misty 
floods,  may  see  and  name  Beowulf's  Mount." 

III.  OTHER  EARLY  POETRY:  SUMMARY 

Besides  Beowulf,  and  the  short  poems  "  Widsith"  and 
"  Deor's  Lament,"  mentioned  above,  two  other  pieces  re- 
main to  us  from  the  pagan  period  of  Anglo-Saxon  poetry.* 
They  are  both  fragments.  One,  the  "  Fight  at  Finnsburg," 
full  of  savage  vigor,  throws  light  upon  an  obscure  story 
referred  to  in  Beowulf;  the  other,  "  Waldhere,"  is  con- 
nected with  the  old  German  cycle  of  poems  which  were 
brought  together  many  centuries  later  as  the  Niebelungen 
Lied. 

When  we  look  at  this  early  literature  as  a  whole  we  can- 
not fail  to  be  struck  by  its  grimness.  It  has,  to  be  sure, 
genial  moments,  moments  even  of  tenderness,  but  for  the 
most  part  the  darker  aspect  of  nature, — storm  and  hail 
and  mist,  the  wintry  terror  of  the  sea, — are  what  the 
poet  loves  to  dwell  upon;  and  over  the  fierce  martial  life 
which  he  depicts  there  hangs  the  shadow  of  Wyrd,  or  Fate, 
huge  and  inescapable.  The  great  business  of  life  is  war ; 
from  it  proceeds  all  honor  and  dignity.  To  be  faithful 
and  liberal  to  his  friends  and  deadly  to  his  foes,  that  is 
the  whole  duty  of  a  man.  But  a  time  was  at  hand  when 
these  fierce  worshippers  of  Thor  and  Woden  were  to  hear 
a  new  gospel.  Sweeping  southwestward  in  their  viking 
ships,  they  were  to  conquer  a  new  home  for  themselves  in 
Britain;  and  there  to  be  themselves  conquered,  not  by  arms, 
but  by  bands  of  eager  monks  who  came  from  the  seat  of 

*  It  must  be  remembered  that "  Beowulf  "  is  tinged  with  Christian  coloring, 
given  to  it,  no  doubt,  by  the  English  monks  who  transcribed  the  manu- 
script.    Still,  in  general  tone  it  is  pagun,  and  in  origin  continental. 


Review  Outline  9 

the  Church  in  Rome  and  from  Christianized  Ireland,  preach- 
ing peace  and  good- will. 

REVIEW  OUTLINE. — This  chapter  deals  with  the  Anglo-Saxon 
people  in  their  early  home  on  the  continent,  before  they  had  come  in 
contact  with  Christianity.  Where  was  this  home  ?  I  nto  what  tribes  were 
they  divided  ?  Which  one  of  these  tribes  furnished  the  names  "  Eng- 
land "  and  "  English  "  ?  (The  earliest  form  of  these  words  was  "  Angle- 
land  "  and  "Anglisc")  Sum  up  for  yourself  their  surroundings,  pursuits, 
and  beliefs.  In  what  esteem  was  the  poet  held  among  them?  Why? 
Pick  out  as  many  characteristics  as  possible  of  their  early  life,  from  the 
account  given  of  Beowulf.  What  virtues  and  personal  qualities  make 
Beowulf,  the  young  gothic  Prince,  the  typical  hero  of  our  race  in  its  early 
state?  Grendel  is  called  "  God's  denier";  was  he  so  thought  of  by  the 
original  makers  of  the  poem  ?  Explain  how  such  Christian  references 
happen  to  occur  in  this  pagan  epic.  When,  where,  and  by  whom  was 
the  poem,  in  all  probability,  put  in  its  present  form,  and  given  a  Chris- 
tian coloring?     (The  full  answer  must  be  sought  in  Chapter  II.) 

For  reading  in  this  period,  see  close  of  Chapter  II. 


CHAPTER  H 

OLD  ENGLISH  PERIOD:    ANGLO-SAXON  LITER- 
ATURE IN  ENGLAND 

I.  THE    COMING   OF  THE   ANGLO-SAXONS   TO   ENGLAND 

Prehistoric  England:  the  Britons. — The  very  earliest  in- 
habitants of  Britain,  the  cavemen,  and  men  of  the  stone  age, 
gave  way  before  the  beginning  of  history  to  a  Celtic  people, 
a  branch  of  the  same  race  which  inhabited  France  and  Spain. 
The  Celts  of  Great  Britain  were  known  to  the  Greeks  as  early 
as  300  B.C.,  when  Pytheas,  a  Greek  navigator  and  geographer, 
visited  them;  and  a  Greek  writer  of  the  same  date  mentions 
their  island,  calling  it  Albion,  "the  white  land,"  from  its 
gleaming  chalk  cliffs.  The  Celts  who  occupied  Ireland  and 
Scotland  are  known  as  Gaels ;  those  who  occupied  England,  as 
Cymri  or  Britons.  They  were  farmers  and  herders  of  cattle, 
and  lived  in  wattled  huts  fortified  with  ditches  and  mounds. 
Their  religion  was  in  the  main  a  worship  of  the  heavenly 
bodies;  their  priests,  known  as  Druids,  were  astronomers  and 
bards.  The  circle  of  huge  stones  at  Stonehenge  probably 
marks  the  site  of  their  chief  temple.  In  character  the  Britons 
were  impetuous,  imaginative,  full  of  curiosity,  and  quick  to 
learn.  Their  early  literature,  which  gathers  about  the  names 
of  legendary  poets  such  as  Merlin  and  Taliesin,  shows  a 
delicate  fancy,  a  kind  of  wild  grace  and  love  of  beauty  for  its 
own  sake,  strikingly  in  contrast  with  the  stern  poetry  of  the 
Anglo-Saxons. 

The  Roman  Occupation  of  Britain. — In  the  year  55  B.C. 
Julius  Caesar  crossed  the  straits  from  Gaul,  and  began  the 
conquest  of  Britain.  This  was  continued  a  hundred  years 
later  by  the  Emperor  Claudius,  who  planted  at  Colchester 
the  first  Roman  colony.  Agricola  became  governor  in  78 
A.D.,  and  built  a  great  wall  and  line  of  forts  to  keep  off  the 

40 


Coming  of  Anglo-Saxons  to  England      11 

Gaels  of  Scotland.  The  Roman  capital  was  fixed  at  York, 
which,  with  its  walls  and  towers,  temples  and  public  build- 
ings, became  "another  Rome."  Here,  for  three  hundred 
years,  the  Victorious  Legion,  the  flower  of  the  Roman  Im- 
perial army,  was  stationed;  and  here  Constantine  was  pro- 
claimed ruler  of  the  whole  Roman  world. 

When  the  Roman  legions  crossed  from  Gaul  there  was  a 
short  space  of  fierce  resistance.  Many  Britons  fled  to  the 
fastnesses  of  Wales  and  Scotland,  and  there  continued,  even 
to  our  own  day,  their  Celtic  traditions.  But  the  greater  part 
seem  soon  to  have  submitted  to  the  Romans,  as  if  by  a  kind 
of  fascination,  even  giving  up  their  language  to  learn  that  of 
their  conquerors.  The  Romans  carried  wherever  they  went 
their  splendid  civilization,  and  by  the  end  of  the  fourth  cen- 
tury England  was  dotted  with  towns  and  villas  where,  amid 
pillared  porticoes,  mosaic  pavements,  marble  baths,  forums 
and  hippodromes,  a  Roman  emperor  could  find  himself  at 
home. 

Recall  of  the  Roman  Legions :  the  Anglo-Saxon  Invasion. 
— This  was  the  state  of  England  when  there  began  that  re- 
markable series  of  movements  on  the  part  of  the  wild  Ger- 
manic tribes,  which  we  know  as  the  "  migrations."  About  the 
end  of  the  fourth  century,  urged  by  a  common  impulse,  tribe 
after  tribe  swept  southward ;  some  by  sea,  to  harry  the  coasts 
of  Gaul  and  Britain,  some  over  the  Alps  and  the  Pyrenees, 
to  batter  at  the  gates  of  Rome,-  to  plunder  the  rich  islands 
of  the  Mediterranean,  and  to  found  a  kingdom  in  Africa. 
"Whelps  from  the  lair  of  the  barbaric  lioness"  (as  an  ancient 
chronicler  calls  them),  the  fierce  Teutonic  warriors,  armed  with 
"  rough-handled  spears  and  swords  of  bronze,"  swept  down 
upon  the  countries  of  Southern  Europe,  carrying  terror  and 
death  everywhere.  In  the  year  410  the  Roman  legions  were  re- 
called from  Britain  to  guard  the  imperial  city,  and  the  Celtic 
inhabitants,  weakened  by  three  centuries  of  civilized  life,  were 
left  to  struggle  unaided  against  the  pirate  bands  of  Jutes, 
Saxons,  and  Angles,  which  appeared  every  spring  in  increas- 
ing numbers  upon  their  coast.  The  Celts  did  not  yield  to  these 
savage  invaders  as  readily  as  they  had  done  to  the  polished 
Romans.      From  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century,  when  the 


12  Old  English  Period 

first  band  of  Jutes  landed  on  the  Isle  of  Thanet,  to  the  time 
when  the  invaders  had  subjugated  the  island  and  set  up  the 
Anglo-Saxon  kingdoms,  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  of  war- 
fare elapsed,  during  which  all  the  monuments  which  Rome 
had  left  were  ruined  if  not  obliterated.  Many  Celts  fled, 
as  in  the  times  of  the  Roman  invasion,  into  Wales  and  Scot- 
land ;  many  were  killed ;  but  a  great  number  were  undoubt- 
edly absorbed  by  the  invading  race.  During  these  years  of 
struggle  there  began  to  grow  up,  about  the  person  of  an  ob- 
scure Celtic  leader,  that  cycle  of  stories  which  was  to  prove 
so  fruitful  of  poetry  both  in  France  and  England, — the 
legends  of  Arthur,  founder  of  the  Round  Table,  and  de- 
fender of  the  western  Britons  against  the  weakening  power 
of  Rome  and  the  growing  fury  of  the  barbarians. 

Earliest  Celtic  and  Roman  Traces  in  the  Language. — 
Now,  also,  began  the  fusion  of  other  languages  with  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  a  fusion  destined  gradually  to  transform  the 
primitive  speech  of  our  Teutonic  ancestors  into  modern 
English.  The  earliest  Celtic  words  absorbed  by  the  Saxon 
speech  were  such  as  have  been  preserved  in  geographical 
names,  such  as  Oxford  and  Stratford-on-Avon  (from  Celtic 
Avon,  and  Ox  or  Esk,  meaning  water),  Holcomb  (from  comb, 
meaning  valley),  Ben  Nevis  (from  ben  or  pen,  meaning  moun- 
tain.) The  words  down  and  slough,  describing  characteristic 
features  of  the  island  landscape,  belong  also  to  these  first 
borrowings.  We  must  remember  that  the  Celtic  language, 
in  the  remoter  parts  of  the  country,  was  preserved  after  the 
Teutons  had  established  themselves,  and  that  wherever  the 
two  races  met,  along  the  disputed  borderland,  the  process  of 
fusion  went  on.  The  amount  contributed  by  the  Celts  to 
our  language  remained,  however,  surprisingly  small. 

Along  with  the  first  Celtic  borrowings,  our  speech  gathered 
up  a  few  words  which  had  been  left  behind  by  the  Roman 
occupation.  They  are  words  that  suggest  an  imperial  mili- 
tary civilization:  street  (which  appears  in  the  name  of  the  old 
Roman  road,  Watling  Street,  running  from  Dover  to  Ches- 
ter, and  is  derived  from  strata  via,  a  paved  way) ;  wall,  fosse, 
and  port  (from  Latin  vallum,  fossa,  and  portus) ;  the  end- 
ings for  place  names,  coin,  as  in  Lincoln    (Latin  colonia, 


Literature  of  Northumbria  13 

colony),  and  Chester  or  caster,  as  in  Winchester  and  Doncaster 
(Latin  castra,  camp).  These  early  borrowings,  from  Celtic 
and  Latin,  were  in  themselves  slight ;  but  they  are  important 
as  the  beginnings  of  a  process  by  which,  gathering  successively 
from  many  sources,  English  became  the  richest  of  modern 
languages. 

II.    THE    LITERATURE   OF   NORTHUMBRIA 

The  Christianizing  of  England. — The  partial  union  of  the 
Celtic  and  the  Saxon  races  which  took  place  in  England  after 
the  Saxon  conquest,  was  to  have  a  great  influence  upon  Eng- 
lish character  and  English  literature.  But  the  greatest  im- 
mediate influence  exerted  upon  the  victorious  Saxon  tribes 
was  that  of  the  Christian  religion,  with  which  they  now  for 
the  first  time  came  into  full  contact.  The  literature  of  this 
period  shows  very  little  trace  of  the  bright  Celtic  imagina- 
tion, but  it  is  nearly  all  deeply  colored  by  Christianity. 

Christianity  had  gained  some  obscure  foothold  in  England 
before  the  Anglo-Saxon  invasion.  During  the  Roman  occu- 
pation a  church  or  two  had  been  built,  and  the  emperor 
Diocletian  had  extended  his  persecution  of  the  followers 
of  Christ  even  to  this  far-off  colony.  But  it  was  not  until 
after  the  Saxon  conquest  that  the  new  religion  took  a  firm 
hold.  The  Christian  teaching  came  into  England  in  two 
different  streams,  one  from  Rome,  one  from  Ireland,  which 
country  had  been  won  from  heathenism  several  centuries 
before.  The  first  stream  began  late  in  the  sixth  century, 
with  the  coming  of  Augustine,  who  converted  to  the  new 
faith  Ethelbert,  king  of  Kent,  and  his  whole  people.  Little 
by  little,  after  the  advent  of  this  great  missionary  among 
the  Saxons  in  the  south  of  England,  the  new  creed  drove 
out  the  old,  winning  its  way  by  the  authority  with  which  it 
spoke  of  man's  existence  beyond  the  grave. 

This  stream  of  religious  influence  which  came  from  Rome 
centred  chiefly  in  south  and  central  England,  in  the  kingdom 
of  Wessex.  It  produced  some  schools  of  learning,  but  almost 
no  literature.  It  is  to  the  north  and  east,  to  the  kingdom 
of  Northumbria,  which  felt  the  influence  of  the  Irish  monks, 


14  Old  English  Period 

that  we  must  look  for  the  first  blossomings  of  Christian 
poetry  in  England. 

Bede  and  Caedmon. — Many  monasteries  sprang  up  in 
Northumbria  in  the  train  of  the  Celtic  missionaries  from 
Ireland.  Two  are  famous  because  of  their  connection  with 
literature — Jarrow  and  Whitby.  At  Jarrow  lived  and  died 
Baeda,  known  as  the  "Venerable  Bede,"  a  gentle,  laborious 
scholar  in  whom  all  the  learning  of  Northumbria  was  summed 
up.  He  translated  the  gospel  of  St.  John  into  English,  but 
his  version  has  unfortunately  been  lost.  He  wrote  many 
books,  nearly  all  of  them  in  Latin,  the  most  notable  being 
the  Ecclesiastical  History  of  the  English  People  (Historia 
Ecclesiastica  Gentis  Anglorum).  It  is  from  a  passage  in  this 
book  that  we  know  the  story  of  Caedmon,  the  first  poet  of 
Christian  England.  Bede  tells  us  that  when  the  inmates  of 
the  monastery  were  gathered  together  at  the  evening  feast, 
and  the  harp  was  passed  round  for  each  to  sing  in  turn, 
Caedmon,  the  cowherd,  would  rise  and  depart,  for  he  was  an 
unlettered  man  and  knew  nothing  of  the  gleeman's  art.  So 
it  was  for  many  years,  until  he  was  no  longer  young.  One 
night,  when  he  had  thus  left  the  cheerful  company  and  gone 
to  the  stables  to  tend  the  cattle,  he  fell  asleep  and  had  a 
wonderful  dream.  The  shining  figure  of  the  Lord  appeared 
before  him,  saying,  "Caedmon,  sing  to  me."  Caedmon  an- 
swered, "  Behold,  I  know  not  how  to  sing,  and  therefore  I 
left  the  feast  to-night."  "Still,  sing  now  to  me,"  the  Lord 
said.  "What  then  shall  I  sing?"  asked  Caedmon.  "Sing 
the  beginning  of  created  things,"  was  the  answer.  Then  in 
his  dream  Caedmon  framed  some  verses  of  the  Creation, 
which  in  the  morning  he  wrote  down,  adding  others  to  them. 
News  of  the  wonderful  gift  which  had  been  bestowed  upon 
the  unschooled  man  was  carried  to  Hild,  the  abbess  of  the 
foundation,  and  she  commanded  portions  of  the  Scripture  to 
be  read  to  him,  that  he  might  paraphrase  them  into  verse. 
So  it  was  done ;  and  from  this  time  on  Caedmon's  life  was 
given  to  his  heaven- appointed  task  of  turning  the  Old  Tes- 
tament narrative  into  song. 

Caedmon's  Paraphrases. — The  poems  which  have  come 
down  to  us  under  Caedmon's  name  consist  of  paraphrases 


Literature  of  Northumbria  15 

of  Genesis,  of  Exodus,  and  a  part  of  Daniel.  An  interesting 
fragment  called  Judith  is  sometimes  included  in  the  work  of 
the  "school  of  Caedmon."  In  places,  especially  in  dealing 
with  a  warlike  episode,  the  poet  expands  his  matter  freely, 
adorning  it  with  his  own  fancy.  In  Exodus,  for  instance, 
all  the  interest  is  centred  on  the  overwhelming  of  Pharaoh's 
host  in  the  Red  Sea.  The  Egyptian  and  the  Israelitish 
armies  are  described  with  a  heathen  scop's  delight  in  war, 
and  the  disaster  which  overtakes  the  Egyptian  hosts  is  sung 
with  savage  force  and  zest.  In  Judith  the  pagan  delight  in 
battle  and  in  blood-revenge  is  even  more  marked.  First, 
king  Holofernes  is  shown,  like  a  rude  viking,  boisterous  and 
wassailing  in  his  mead-hall.  When  Judith  comes  to  him  in 
his  drunken  sleep  and  hews  off  his  head  with  a  sword,  the 
poet  cannot  restrain  his  exultation;  and  the  flight  of  the 
army  of  Holofernes  before  the  men  of  Israel  is  described 
with  grewsome  vividness. 

Cynewulf. — If  we  know  little  of  Caedmon's  life,  we  know 
still  less  of  Cynewulf,  the  poet  who  succeeded  him,  and  who 
was  probably  the  greatest  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  poets,  if  we 
except  the  unknown  bard  who  gave  Beowulf  its  present 
form.  Out  of  very  insubstantial  materials  a  picturesque 
story  has  been  made  for  him.  He  is  said  to  have  been  in  his 
youth  a  wandering  singer,  leading  a  wild  life  by  sea  and 
shore,  as  he  plied  his  gleeman's  craft,  now  in  the  halls  of 
lords,  now  in  the  huts  of  shepherds  and  on  the  village  green, 
now  on  the  deck  of  Northumbrian  coasting-ships.  In  the 
midst  of  this  free  existence  he  suddenly  underwent  some 
deep  religious  experience,  which,  together  with  the  public 
disasters  then  overtaking  Northumbria,  completely  changed 
the  temper  of  his  mind.  He  gave  up  the  half-pagan  nature- 
poetry  which  up  to  this  time  he  had  written,  and  turned 
to  write  religious  poems.  We  have,  signed  with  his  name 
in  strange  characters  called  runes,  two  lives  of  saints,  St. 
Juliana  and  Elene,  and  the  Christ,  an  epic  dealing  with  the 
Saviour's  incarnation  and  ascension,  and  with  the  Day  of 
Judgment.  Other  poems  have  been  ascribed  to  him  with 
varying  degrees  of  probability:  Andreas,  a  very  lively  and 
naive  story  of  a  saint's  martyrdom  and  final  triumph  over 


16  Old  English  Period 

his  enemies ;  the  Phoenix,  a  richly  colored  description  of  the 
mythic  bird  and  its  dwelling-place,  with  a  religious  interpre- 
tation ;  and  finally  a  number  of  Riddles,  very  curious  compo- 
sitions, some  of  which  are  full  of  fine  imagination  and  fresh 
observation  of  nature. 

The  "  Riddles  "  of  Cynewulf. — These  last  are  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  conundrums,  in  which  some  object  or  phenom- 
enon is  described  suggestively,  and  the  reader  is  left  to  guess 
what  is  meant.  The  new  moon  is  a  young  viking,  sailing 
through  the  skies  in  his  pirate  ship,  laden  with  spoils  of 
battle,  to  build  a  burg  for  himself  in  highest  heaven;  but 
the  sun,  a  greater  warrior,  drives  him  away  and  possesses 
his  land,  until  the  night  conquers  the  sun  in  turn.  The  ice- 
berg shouts  and  laughs  as  it  plunges  through  the  wintry  sea, 
eager  to  crush  the  fleet  of  hostile  ships.  The  sword  in  its 
scabbard  is  a  mailed  fighter,  who  goes  exultingly  into  the 
battle-play,  and  then  is  sad  because  women  upbraid  him  for 
the  slaughter  he  has  done.  The  swan  and  the  beaver  are 
described  with  an  insight  and  sympathy  which  remind  us, 
in  a  far-off  way,  of  modern  nature-poetry.  It  is  pleasant, 
even  if  not  quite  scientific,  to  think  of  the  Riddles  as  the 
youthful  work  of  Cynewulf,  since  his  is  the  only  poet's  name 
that  has  survived  from  those  obscure  and  troubled  times. 

The  "  Phoenix." — The  Phoenix  derives  a  special  interest 
from  the  fact  that  it  is  the  only  Anglo-Saxon  poem  of  any 
length  which  shows  a  delight  in  the  soft  and  radiant  moods 
of  Nature,  as  opposed  to  her  fierce  and  grim  aspects.  In 
the  land  where  the  Phoenix  dwells  "the  groves  are  all  behung 
with  blossoms,  the  boughs  upon  the  trees  are  ever  laden, 
the  fruit  is  aye  renewed  through  all  eternity."  The  music 
of  the  wonderful  bird,  as  it  goes  aloft  "to  meet  that  glad- 
some gem,  God's  candle,"  is  "sweeter  and  more  beauteous 
than  any  craft  of  song."  When  a  thousand  years  of  its  life 
are  done,  it  flies  far  away  to  a  lonely  Syrian  wood,  and 
builds  its  own  funeral  pyre  of  fragrant  herbs,  which  the 
sun  kindles.  Out  of  the  ball  of  ashes  a  new  Phoenix  is  born, 
and  flies  back  to  its  home  in  the  enchanted  land  of  summer. 
At  the  end,  the  whole  poem  is  made  into  a  Christian 
allegory  of  the  death  and  resurrection  of  Christ,  and  of  his 


Literature  of  Northumbria  17 

ascent  to  heaven  amid  the  ministering  company  of  saints. 
Scholars  have  pointed  out  that  the  description  of  the  bird's 
dwelling-place  is  influenced  by  the  old  Celtic  fancy  of  the 
Land  of  Eternal  Youth;  and  certainly  it  is  not  difficult  to 
see,  in  the  bright  colors  and  happy  fancy  of  the  poem,  the 
working  of  the  Celtic  imagination,  as  well  as  the  trans- 
forming touch  of  hope  which  had  been  brought  into  men's 
lives  by  Christianity. 

Anglo-Saxon  Love  Poems  and  Elegies. — Besides  the  poetry 
attributed  to  Caedmon  and  his  school,  and  to  Cynewulf  and 
his  school,  there  exist  a  few  short  poems  of  the  greatest 
interest.  One  of  these,  called  "The  Wife's  Lament,"  gives 
us  a  glimpse  of  one  of  the  harsh  customs  of  our  ancestors. 
A  wife,  accused  of  faithlessness,  has  been  banished  from  her 
native  village,  and  compelled  to  live  alone  in  the  forest; 
from  her  place  of  exile  she  pours  out  a  moan  to  the  husband 
who  has  been  estranged  from  her  by  false  slanderers.  "The 
Lover's  Message"  is  a  kind  of  companion  piece  to  this. 
The  speaker  in  the  little  poem  is  the  tablet  of  wood  upon 
which  an  absent  lover  has  carved  a  message  to  send  to  his 
beloved.  It  tells  her  that  he  has  now  a  home  for  her  in  the 
south,  and  bids  her,  as  soon  as  she  hears  the  cuckoo  chanting 
of  sorrow  in  the  copsewood,  to  take  sail  over  the  ocean  path- 
way to  her  lord,  who  waits  and  longs  for  her.  With  these 
two  little  pieces  begins  the  love-poetry  of  England. 

"  The  Wanderer." — The  longest  and  most  beautiful  of  all 
the  Anglo-Saxon  elegies  or  poems  of  sentiment  is  "The 
Wanderer."  It  is  the  complaint  of  one  who  must  "traverse 
the  watery  ways,  stir  with  his  hands  the  rime-cold  sea,  and 
tread  the  paths  of  exile,"  while  he  muses  upon  the  joys  and 
glories  of  a  life  that  has  passed  away  forever.  "Often,"  he 
says,  "it  seems  to  him  in  fancy  as  though  he  clasps  and  kisses 
his  great  lord,  and  on  his  knees  lays  hand  and  head,  even  as 
erewhile  " ;  but  he  soon  wakes  friendless,  and  sees  before  him 
only  "  the  fallow  ways,  sea-birds  bathing  and  spreading  their 
wings,  falling  hoar-frost  and  snow  mingled  with  hail."  At 
the  close  the  Wanderer  breaks  out  into  a  song  of  lamentation 
over  the  departed  glories  of  a  better  time:  "Where  is  gone 
the  horse?    Where  is  gone  the  hero?    Where  is  gone  the 


18  Old  English  Period 

giver  of  treasure  ?  Where  are  gone  the  seats  of  the  feast  ? 
Where  are  the  joys  of  the  hall?  Ah,  thou  bright  cup  !  Ah, 
thou  mailed  warrior !  Ah,  the  prince's  pride  !  how  has  the 
time  passed  away,  as  if  it  had  not  been  !"  There  is  a  wist- 
ful tenderness  and  a  lyric  grace  in  this  poem  which  sug- 
gests once  more  the  Celtic  leaven  at  work  in  the  ruder  Anglo- 
Saxon  genius.  It  suggests,  too,  a  state  of  society  fallen  into 
ruin,  a  time  of  decadence  and  disaster.  Probably,  before  it 
was  written,  such  a  time  had  come  for  England,  and  espe- 
cially for  Northumbria. 

III.   THE     STRUGGLE    WITH    THE     DANES!      LITERATURE    OF 

WESSEX 

The  Danes  Destroy  Northumbria. — While  the  Anglo-Saxons 
had  been  settling  down  in  England  to  a  life  of  agriculture, 
their  kinsmen  who  remained  on  the  Continent  had  continued 
to  lead  their  wild  freebooting  life  of  the  sea.  Toward  the 
end  of  the  eighth  century  bands  of  Danes  began  to  harass 
the  English  coasts.  Northumbria  bore  the  main  force  of 
their  attacks.  The  very  monastery  of  Jarrow,  in  which 
Baeda  had  written  his  Ecclesiastical  History,  was  plundered, 
and  its  inhabitants  put  to  the  sword.  The  monastery  of 
Whitby,  where  Caedmon  had  had  his  vision,  was  only  tem- 
porarily saved  by  the  fierce  resistance  of  the  monks.  By  the 
middle  of  the  ninth  century  the  Danes  had  made  themselves 
masters  of  Northumbria.  They  were  such  men  as  the  Angles, 
Jutes,  and  Saxons  had  been  three  hundred  years  before — 
worshippers  of  the  old  gods,  ruthless  uprooters  of  a  religion, 
literature,  and  society  which  they  did  not  understand- 

Rise  of  Wessex:  King  Alfred. — In  Wessex,  however,  a 
kingdom  had  arisen  with  strength  enough  to  offer  a  firm  re- 
sistance to  the  Danes.  King  Egbert,  of  Wessex,  after  com- 
pelling the  tribes  of  Central  Britain  to  acknowledge  his  head- 
ship, had  taken,  in  828,  the  proud  title  of  "King  of  the  Eng- 
lish," for  by  this  time  the  Angles  had  given  their  name  to  all 
divisions  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  people  in  Britain.  When  the 
Danes,  victorious  in  Northumbria,  began  to  press  south- 
westward  into  the  kingdom  of  Wessex,  Alfred  the   Great 


Struggle  With  the  Danes  19 

held  the  throne.  His  heroism  turned  back  the  tide  of  bar- 
barian invasion.  By  the  treaty  of  Wedmore,  which  he  forced 
upon  them  in  878,  the  Danes  pledged  themselves  to  remain 
north  of  Watling  Street,  the  old  Roman  road  running  from 
Dover  to  Chester.  From  this  time  until  the  Norman  con- 
quest, two  centuries  later,  the  only  literature  which  remains 
to  us  was  produced  in  Wessex.  It  is  almost  entirely  a  litera- 
ture of  prose.  The  best  of  it  was  the  work  of  King  Alfred 
himself,  or  produced  under  his  immediate  encouragement. 

What  King  Alfred  Did  for  Literature. — As  a  child  King 
Alfred  had  seen  Rome,  and  had  lived  for  a  time  at  the  great 
court  of  Charles  the  Bald  in  France;  and  the  spectacle  of 
these  older  and  richer  civilizations  had  filled  him  with  a 
desire  to  give  to  his  rude  subjects  something  of  the  heritage 
of  the  past.  When,  after  a  desperate  struggle,  he  had  won 
peace  from  the  Danes,  he  called  about  him  learned  monks 
from  the  sheltered  monasteries  of  Ireland  and  Wales,  and 
made  welcome  at  his  court  all  strangers  who  could  bring  him 
a  manuscript  or  sing  to  him  an  old  song.  It  was  probably 
during  his  reign  that  the  poems  of  Caedmon  and  Cynewulf, 
as  well  as  the  older  pagan  poems,  were  brought  southward 
out  of  Northumbria  and  put  in  the  West- Saxon  form  in  which 
we  now  have  them.  He  spurred  on  his  priests  and  bishops 
to  write.  He  himself  learned  a  little  Latin,  in  order  that  he 
might  translate  certain  books,  which  he  deemed  would  be 
most  useful  and  interesting  to  Englishmen,  into  the  West- 
Saxon  tongue;  putting  down  the  sense,  he  says,  "sometimes 
word  for  word,  sometimes  meaning  for  meaning,  as  I  had 
learned  it  from  Plegmund,  my  archbishop,  and  Asser,  my 
bishop,  and  Grimbald,  my  mass-priest,  and  John,  my  mass- 
priest."  The  most  important  of  these  pious  labors  was  a 
rendering  of  Baeda's  Ecclesiastical  History,  which  gave  a 
native  English  dress  to  the  first  great  piece  of  historical  writ- 
ing which  had  been  done  in  England.  Alfred  also  caused 
the  dry  entries  of  the  deaths  of  kings  and  the  installations  of 
bishops,  which  the  monks  were  in  the  habit  of  making  on  the 
Easter  rolls,  to  be  expanded  into  a  clear  and  picturesque  nar- 
rative, the  greatest  space,  of  course,  being  taken  up  with  the 
events  of  his  own  reign.      This,  known  as  the  Anglo-Saxon 


20  Old  English  Period 

Chronicle,  is  the  most  venerable  monument  of  Old  English 
prose. 

Decadence  of  Anglo-Saxon  Literature. — Despite  all  his 
efforts,  King  Alfred  did  not  succeed  in  creating  a  vital  na- 
tive literature  in  Wessex.  The  language  was  changing,  and 
the  literary  spirit  of  the  people  was  almost  dead.  The  ser- 
mons or  Homilies  of  the  great  and  devoted  Aelfric,  however, 
here  and  there  rise  to  the  rank  of  literature,  by  reason  of 
the  naive  picturesqueness  of  some  religious  legend  which 
they  treat,  or  by  the  fervor  of  their  piety.  Aelfric  also 
translated  a  portion  of  the  Scriptures,  adding  to  the  begin- 
ning which  Bede  had  made,  and  carrying  one  step  further  the 
long  process  by  which  the  great  English  Bible  was  brought 
into  being.  The  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle,  also,  which  con- 
tinued to  grow  in  the  monasteries  of  Peterborough,  Win- 
chester, and  Ely,  here  and  there  breaks  out  into  stirring 
verse.  One  of  these  poetic  episodes,  known  as  the  "  Battle 
of  Brunanburh,"  is  entered  under  the  year  937.  Another, 
the  "  Death  of  Byrhtnoth,"  also  called  the  "  Battle  of  Mal- 
don,"  bears  date  991 ;  it  is  the  swan-song  of  Anglo-Saxon 
poetry. 

Latin  and  Danish  Word-Borrowings. — During  the  period 
we  have  just  traversed  the  English  tongue  was  enriched  from 
two  sources,  Latin  and  Danish.  The  Latin  words  which 
came  in  during  the  period  of  Christianization  nearly  all  refer 
to  the  church  and  its  functions.  They  are  such  words  as 
church  itself  (originally  a  Greek  word,  kyriakon),  minster 
(monasterium),  bishop  (episcopus),  monk  (monachus),  priest 
(presbyter),  martyr  (originally  a  Greek  word,  meaning  "  wit- 
ness"), devil  (diabolus),  and  a  host  of  others.  The  Dan- 
ish contribution  was  confined  chiefly  to  such  geographical 
endings  as  -by  and  -thorp,  meaning  "town,"  preserved  in 
names  such  as  Somersby  and  Althorp. 

End  of  the  Old  English  Period. — So  far  as  literature  was 
concerned,  England  at  the  end  of  the  tenth  century  was  in 
need  of  new  blood.  The  Danes  had  brought  no  literature 
with  them,  and  the  Anglo-Saxon  genius  was  exhausted.  In 
fact,  in  spite  of  all  its  rugged  grandeur  and  fine  persistence, 
this  genius  was  at  its  best  lacking  in  many  elements  necessary 


Review  Outline  21 

to  make  a  great  national  life.  Anglo-Saxon  poetry,  looked  at 
in  the  large,  betrays  a  narrowness  of  theme,  and  monotony  of 
tone,  out  of  which  a  great  literature  could  have  evolved,  if  at 
all,  only  slowly  and  with  difficulty.  Some  new  graft  was 
needed,  to  give  elasticity,  gayety,  and  range.  This  need  was 
met  when,  in  1066,  William  the  Conqueror  landed  at  Hastings 
with  his  army  of  Norman-French  knights,  and  marched  to 
give  battle  to  the  forces  of  Harold,  the  last  of  the  Saxon  kings. 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— Who  were  the  earliest  known  inhabitants  of 
Britain  during  historic  times  ?  How  long  a  period  elapsed  between  the 
mention  of  them  in  Greek  history  and  the  time  when  Caesar  made  them 
known  to  the  Roman  world  ?  Sum  up  the  principal  facts  of  the  Roman 
occupation  of  Britain.  Why  and  when  were  the  Roman  forces  with- 
drawn? When  did  the  Anglo-Saxon  sea-robbers  begin  to  conquer  the 
Britons,  thus  left  defenceless  by  Rome,  and  weakened  by  her  civiliza- 
tion? How  long  did  the  struggle  endure?  How  is  King  Arthur's 
name  connected  with  it?  Bring  together  as  many  particulars  as  you 
can  from  this  chapter  concerning  the  character  of  the  Celts,  and  con- 
trast it  with  what  you  know  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  character.  Note  the 
traces  which  the  Celts  and  the  Roman  conquerors  left  in  the  new  lan- 
guage which  the  Saxon  invaders  planted  in  England. 

Give  some  account  of  the  Christianizing  of  England.  Who  was  Bede  ? 
Who  was  the  first  Christian  poet?  Tell  his  story,  and  indicate  some 
traces  of  the  pagan  spirit  in  him.  What  great  English  poet,  centuries 
later,  treated  Caedmon's  theme,  "  the  beginning  of  created  things"? 
From  what  source  do  we  learn  the  name  of  the  greatest  poet  of  this 
time  ?  Relate  the  traditions  concerning  his  life.  Which  of  the  writings 
attributed  to  him  are  entirely  Christian  and  which  pagan  in  feeling  ? 
What  qualities  in  the  "  Phcenix  "  and  the  "  Wanderer  "  suggest  the 
influence  of  the  Celtic  spirit?  Of  what  large  group  of  English  poems 
is  the  latter  a  forerunner?  Can  you  name  three  later  English  poems 
that  belong  to  this  class  ? 

All  the  literature,  both  prose  and  poetry,  which  we  consider  in  the  two 
first  sections  of  this  chapter,  was  produced  in  Northumbria.  When,  and 
by  what  new  invaders,  was  the  literary  supremacy  of  Northumbria  de- 
stroyed ?  Why  did  Wessex  now  become  the  centre  of  learning  and  of 
literary  activity?  What  kind  of  literature  was  chiefly  produced  in 
Wessex?    Tell  what  you  can  of  the  Treaty  of  Wedmore.    What  were 


22  Old  English  Period 

the  influences  which  gave  King  Alfred  his  interest  in  literature,  and 
what  means  did  he  take  to  promote  literature  among  his  people? 
What  was  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle?  What  significance  has  it  had 
for  later  generations?  Note  carefully  that  while  the  original  literature 
produced  in  Wessex  was  of  far  less  interest  than  that  produced  in 
Northumbria,  it  is  to  Wessex  monks  and  scribes  that  we  owe  the 
preservation  not  only  of  the  Northumbrian  poetry  but  of  the  earlier 
poetry  produced  on  the  Continent,  including"  Beowulf."  Who  contin- 
ued the  great  work  of  translating  the  Bible,  begun  by  Bede  in  his  lost 
version  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  John  ?  Give  date  and  title  of  the  poem  which 
is  called  the  "swan-song"  of  Old  English  poetry.  (Note  the  meaning 
of  the  word  "swan-song.")  What  kinds  of  words  came  into  our  lan- 
guage at  this  period  from  Latin  and  Greek  sources?  Give  examples. 
Why  is  it  probable  that  a  large  literary  future  was  not  open  to  the 
Anglo-Saxon  people  without  the  infusion  of  some  new  element  ?  What 
was  this  element  to  be? 

READING  GUIDE.— Students  cannot  be  expected  to  do  much 
reading  in  the  literature  of  the  Old  English  period.  The  teacher  should 
read  to  the  class  or  have  the  student  read  a  portion  of  "  Beowulf  "  in 
translation.  A  good  translation  for  the  purpose  is  that  by  C.  G.  Child 
(Houghton,  Mifflin),  Number  159  in  the  Riverside  Literature  series;  or 
that  by  J.  Earle,  "  The  Deeds  of  Beowulf  "  (Clarendon  Press).  "  The 
Battle  of  Brunanburh,"  translated  by  Tennyson,  may  also  be  read 
with  profit.  All  the  minor  poems  mentioned  in  the  text  are  translated, 
wholly  or  partly,  in  Stopford  Brooke's  Early  English  Literature  ;  the 
reading  aloud  of  a  few  of  these,  as  for  instance  "  The  Wanderer  "  and 
"  The  Lover's  Message,"  will  greatly  vivify  the  class's  understanding 
of  the  spirit  of  the  early  literature.  Liberal  extracts  from  "  Beowulf  " 
are  also  given  in  Brooke,  so  that  a  separate  edition  of  that  poem  may, 
if  desired,  be  dispensed  with.  Good  examples  of  early  English  poetry 
may  also  be  found  in  Longfellow's  "  Poets  and  Poetry  of  Europe." 

To  give  the  class  some  notion  of  the  old  Celtic  literature,  and  some 
conception  of  what  manner  of  men  they  were  whom  the  Anglo-Saxons 
found  in  England  when  they  first  invaded  the  island,  the  student  may 
profitably  read  "  The  Voyage  of  Maeldune,"  by  Tennyson,  which  is 
founded  on  an  old  Celtic  romance.  Further  illustrations  of  the  Celtic 
spirit  may  be  found  in  "  The  Boy's  Mabinogion,"  by  Sidney  Lanier 
(Scribner),  and  in  the  first  volume  of  Henry  Morley's  English  Writers, 


Readfrig  Guide  23 

where  many  beautiful  Celtic  pieces  are  summarized.  The  reading  of 
Morley's  summary  of  "The  Tale  of  the  Cattle  Spoil  of  Chuailgne,"  and 
comparison  with  the  summary  of  "Beowulf"  given  in  the  text,  may 
be  made  of  great  interest ;  The  Cattle  Spoil  is  a  typical  product  of 
an  agricultural  race  in  its  heroic  and  semi-mythic  period,  as  Beo- 
wulf is  a  typical  product  of  a  seafaring  race  at  a  similar  stage. 

To  illustrate  the  Christian  literature  of  the  Old  English  period,  the 
quotations  from  "The  Phoenix"  in  Brooke's  Early  English  Literature, 
or  from  "Judith,"  translated  in  Morley's  English  Writers,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  180-188,  may  be  read  to  the  class. 


24  Old  English' Period 


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CHAPTER   III 

MIDDLE-ENGLISH   PERIOD:    FROM   THE  NORMAN 
CONQUEST  TO   CHAUCER 

I.   THE    COMING   OF  THE  NORMANS  TO   ENGLAND:   UNION   01 
THE   TWO    PEOPLES 

Character  of  the  Norman  People. — The  Normans,  or  North- 
men, were  an  extraordinary  people.  A  century  and  a  half 
before  their  invasion  of  England,  they  had  appeared  off  the 
coast  of  France;  and  under  their  leader,  Hrolf  the  Ganger 
(the  "Walker"),  they  had  pushed  up  the  Seine  in  their  black 
boats,  wasting  and  burning  to.  the  very  gates  of  Paris.  The 
French  won  peace  by  giving  over  to  them  broad  and  rich 
lands  in  the  northwest,  known  henceforth  as  Normandy. 
The  Normans  were  a  branch  of  the  same  Teutonic  race 
which  had  sent  out  the  Jutes,  Saxons,  and  Angles  to  conquer 
England.  But,  unlike  the  other  northern  peoples,  they  showed 
a  marvellous  power  of  assimilating  the  civilization  which 
Rome  had  spread  among  the  Celts  of  Western  Europe.  The 
Normans  married  with  the  French  women,  adopted  French 
manners  and  the  French  tongue.  In  a  little  over  a  century 
they  had  grown  from  a  barbarous  horde  of  sea-robbers  into 
the  most  polished  and  brilliant  people  of  Europe,  whose  power 
was  felt  in  the  Mediterranean  and  the  far  East.  They  united 
in  a  singular  manner  impetuous  daring  and  cool  practical 
sense.  Without  losing  anything  of  their  northern  bravery 
in  war,  they  managed  to  gather  up  all  the  southern  suppleness 
and  wit,  all  the  southern  love  of  splendor  and  art.  When 
William  advanced  to  meet  King  Harold  at  Senlae,  a  court 
minstrel,  Taillefer,  rode  before  the  invading  army,  tossing 
up  his  sword  and  catching  it  like  a  juggler,  while  he  chanted 
the  Song  oj  Roland — the  French  epic.    Taillefer  is  a  sym- 

'5 


26  Middle  English  Period 

bol  of  the  Norman  spirit,  of  its  dash,  its  buoyancy,  its  brill- 
iancy. The  Normans  brought  with  them  to  England  not 
only  the  terror  of  the  sword  and  the  strong  hand  of  con- 
quest, but  also  the  vitalizing  breath  of  song,  the  fresh  and 
youthful  spirit  of  romance. 

First  Effects  of  the  Norman  Invasion. — The  sternness  and 
energy  with  which  King  William  and  his  nobles  set  about 
planting  their  own  civilization  in  the  island,  brought  with  it 
much  oppression  and  hardship.  The  land  was  taken  from 
its  Saxon  owners  and  distributed  among  Norman  nobles. 
Over  the  length  and  breadth  of  England  rose  those  strong 
castles  whose  gray  and  massive  walls  still  frown  over  the 
pleasant  English  landscape.  The  strong  and  gloomy  Tower 
of  London,  which  was  to  be  the  scene  of  so  much  tragic 
history,  was  built  to  hold  the  capital  city  in  terror.  Less 
forbidding  than  these,  but  no  less  suggestive  of  the  for- 
eigner, splendid  minsters  gradually  took  the  place  of  the 
gloomy  little  Saxon  churches.  Forest  laws  of  terrible  harsh- 
ness preserved  the  "tall  deer"  which  the  king  "loved  as 
his  life";  but  when  a  man  was  found  murdered,  if  it  could 
be  proved  that  he  was  a  Saxon,  no  further  notice  was  taken 
of  the  crime.  The  Saxon  language,  or  "Englisc,"  as  it  had 
begun  to  be  called  in  King  Alfred's  time,  was  the  badge  of 
serfdom ;  and  not  only  in  the  court  and  camp  and  castle,  but 
also  in  Parliament  and  on  the  justice-bench,  French  alone 
was  spoken. 

Persistence  of  the  Native  Speech. — If  a  prophet  had  arisen 
to  tell  the  Norman  nobility  of  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  cen- 
turies, that  not  French,  but  English,  was  destined  to  be  the 
speech  of  their  descendants,  he  would  have  been  laughed  at. 
But  this  incredible  thing  came  to  pass,  because  of  the  dogged 
persistency  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  nature  in  clinging  to  its  own. 
At  the  Conquest  English  ceased  to  be  written;  with  the  one 
exception  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle,  which  continued  to 
grow  in  the  sheltered  monastery  of  Peterborough,  Eng- 
lish literature  "dives  underground"  in  1066,  and  does  not 
reappear  for  a  century  and  a  half.  But  though  no  longer 
having  a  literary  existence,  the  old  tongue  lived  on  the  lips 
of  the  subjugated  race,  from  father  to  son.    About  1200 


Coming  of  the  Normans  to  England       27 

it  began  to  be  used  again  as  a  language  of  books,  disputing 
with  rude  and  uncertain  accents  a  place  by  the  side  of 
the  polished  language  of  the  conquerors.  When  it  reap- 
peared, however,  it  was  a  changed  tongue.  It  was  no 
longer  Anglo-Saxon,  but  English.  In  spite  of  many  words 
now  obsolete,  many  strange  forms  and  spellings,  the  English 
of  the  thirteenth  century  is  unmistakably  the  same  language 
which  we  speak  to-day.  It  had  sloughed  off  its  inflections, 
simplified  its  grammar,  and  required  only  to  be  enriched  by 
French  elements,  and  made  flexible  by  use,  to  be  ready  for 
the  hand  of  Chaucer. 

Fusion  of  the  English  and  Norman-French  Tongues. — But 
to  say  that  English  was  "enriched  by  French  elements"  is 
hardly  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  extent  to  which  the  foreign 
tongue  entered  into  the  composition  of  the  language.  What 
really  happened  was  that  English  absorbed  nearly  the  whole 
body  of  the  French  speech,  or  rather  that  the  two  languages, 
like  the  two  peoples  that  spoke  them,  gradually  melted  to- 
gether and  became  one.  The  Saxon,  however,  formed  the 
foundation  of  the  new  language,  determined  its  grammar, 
and  furnished  the  primary  indispensable  words.  The  words 
of  French  origin  in  our  vocabulary  outnumber  the  Saxon 
words  three  to  one ;  but  in  ordinary  speech,  where  only  the 
common  words  of  daily  life  and  action  are  used,  the  Saxon 
words  are  greatly  in  preponderance.  French  furnished  many 
of  the  more  stately  words,  those  which  apply  to  matters  of 
abstract  thought,  to  law  and  theology,  to  ceremonious  inter- 
course, and  to  the  workings  of  a  polished  civilization.  The 
result  of  this  fusion  was  to  increase  enormously  the  power 
of  the  language  to  express  thought  and  feeling.  It  has 
made  English  the  most  splendid  poetic  language  of  the 
modern  world.  The  fusion  was  accomplished  in  a  period  of 
about  a  century  and  a  half.  When  English  first  appeared, 
in  1 200,  after  its  long  sleep,  it  contained  almost  no  French 
ingredients;  by  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century  the 
process  of  blending  the  two  tongues  was  beginning  to  draw 
to  a  close.  Chaucer,  the  poet  who  was  to  complete  it  and 
fix  the  language  in  much  the  shape  that  it  wears  to-day, 
was  then  a  boy  in  the  streets  of  London. 


28  Middle  English  Period 

Fusion  of  the  Saxon  and  Norman  Peoples. — Hand  in  hand 
with  the  fusion  of  the  Saxon  and  Norman-French  languages, 
went  the  social  fusion  of  the  two  peoples.  The  conquerors, 
we  must  remember,  were  originally  of  the  same  race  as  the 
conquered.  By  intermarriage  with  the  French  their  character, 
it  is  true,  had  been  much  altered,  but  not  so  much  but  that  a 
sympathy  of  nature  existed  still  with  their  Saxon  subjects. 
The  Conquest  put  an  end  to  warfare  between  the  petty  Eng- 
lish kingdoms,  and  gave  at  once  a  political  unity  to  the  nation 
by  placing  supreme  power  in  the  hands  of  a  single  ruler.  The 
struggle  of  the  Conqueror's  son,  Henry  I  (1100-1135)  with 
his  turbulent  barons,  led  him  to  draw  nearer  to  the  com- 
mon people,  and  grant  privileges  to  the  towns ;  he  still  further 
strengthened  the  growing  bond  between  the  English  and 
their  foreign  masters  by  taking  a  Saxon  wife,  a  descendant 
of  King  Alfred.  Under  Henry  II  (1154-1189)  the  barons 
refused  to  furnish  troops  to  be  used  outside  of  England ;  and 
the  growth  o~  national  spirit  which  this  shows  was  increased 
by  the  loss  of  Normandy,  during  the  reign  of  John,  in  1204. 
Shut  in  by  the  sea  with  the  people  they  had  conquered,  the 
Norman  noblemen  began  not  only  to  look  upon  England  as 
their  home,  but  to  find  that  they  were  drawn  by  common  inter- 
ests and  a  common  enemy,  closer  and  closer  to  the  native 
population.  Under  Edward  I,  in  1265,  this  new  feeling  of  na- 
tional unity  found  expression  in  the  establishment  of  a  Par- 
liament composed  of  both  lords  and  commons,  "a  complete 
image  of  the  nation,"  for  the  first  time  regularly  and  fre- 
quently summoned  by  the  king.  During  the  next  hundred 
years  the  process  of  unifying  the  nation  and  the  language 
progressed  rapidly,  aided  by  intermarriage  and  by  daily 
intercourse;  until,  by  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century, 
the  very  terms  "Norman"  and  "Saxon"  had  begun  to  lose 
their  meaning.  All  were  Englishmen,  and  the  long  process 
of  fusion  was  nearly  complete. 


Knightly  Literature  29 

II.    KNIGHTLY  LITERATURE   OF  THE  ANGLO-NORMAN   PERIOD 

The  Metrical  Romance. — A  large  proportion  of  the  literature 
of  this  century  and  a  half  of  preparation  (1200-1350)  consists 
of  efforts  in  a  new  and  fascinating  poetic  form  introduced 
into  England  by  the  Norman-French,  the  metrical  romance. 
The  typical  romance  was  a  rambling  tale  of  adventure,  in  / 
which  evil  knights,  robbers,  giants,  and  Saracens  were  over- 
thrown by  a  wandering  chevalier,  in  the  interest  of  some  dis- 
tressed damsel  or  of  holy  church.  It  dealt  in  a  rather  unreal, 
but  highly  entertaining  way,  with  the  three  great  interests  of 
the  Middle  Ages — battle,  love,  and  religion. 

Sources  of  the  Metrical  Romances. — The  trouveres,  as  the 
poets  who  composed  and  recited  these  romances  were  called, 
borrowed  the  material  of  their  richly  variegated  tales  wher- 
ever they  could  find  it.  A  part  of  it  came  from  Italy  and  the 
East,  and  out  of  this  they  made  the  Troy  cycle  and  the  cycle 
of  Alexander  the  Great.  A  part  of  it  they  found  near  at 
hand,  in  the  adventures  of  Charlemagne  and  his  twelve  peers. 
But  the  richest  storehouse  of  romance  which  they  had  to 
draw  upon,  was  in  the  Celtic  parts  of  England  and  Brittany, 
where  for  centuries  there  had  been  growing  up  a  mass  of 
legend  connected  with  King  Arthur.*  A  number  of  these 
Arthurian  legends  were  gathered  up,  before  the  middle  of  the 
twelfth  century,  in  a  great  Latin  work  called  the  Historia 
Bretonum,  by  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  a  Welsh  writer,  who 
also  added  stories  of  his  own  invention.  This  chronicle  of 
Geoffrey's  was  translated  into  French  verse  by  Wace  of 
Jersey,  and  through  this  channel  came,  about  the  year 
1200,  into  the  hands  of  Layamon,  the  first  writer  of  romance 
in  the  crude  English  speech,  which  was  just  then  awaken- 
ing from  its  century  and  a  half  of  silence.  It  is  a  curious 
fact  that  the  first  attempt  made  by  the  English  in  the  knightly 
romance  should  have  come  from  the  hand,  not  of  a  worldly 
singer,  but  of  a  monk.  It  is  true  that  Layamon's  work  is  in 
the  form  of  a  chronicle,  and  pretends  to  be  history ;  but  the 
material  of  which  it  is  made  up  is  legendary,  and  its  tone  is 
that  of  a  pure  romance. 

*  See  page  1 2. 


30  Middle  English  Period 

Layamon's  "Brut."— All  that  we  know  of  Layamon, 
and  of  how  he  came  to  write  his  Brut,  he  tells  himself  in 
the  quaint  and  touching  words  which  prelude  the  poem: 

"There  was  a  priest  in  the  land  was  named  Layamon. 
He  dwelt  at  Ernley,  at  a  noble  church  upon  Severn  bank. 
It  came  to  him  in  mind  and  in  his  chief  thought  that  he 
would  tell  the  noble  deeds  of  the  English;  what  the  men 
were  named,  and  whence  they  came,  who  first  had  the  Eng- 
lish land  after  the  flood.  Layamon  began  to  journey  wide 
over  this  land,  and  procured  the  noble  books  which  he  took 
for  authority.  Layamon  laid  these  books  before  him  and 
turned  over  the  leaves;  lovingly  he  beheld  them — may  the 
Lord  be  merciful  to  him  !  Pen  he  took  with  fingers,  and 
wrote  on  book-skin,  and  compressed  the  three  books  into 
one." 

The  poem  opens  with  an  account  of  how  ^Eneas's  great- 
grandson,  Brutus,  who  gives  his  name  to  the  poem,  sets  out 
from  Italy  with  all  his  people  to  find  a  new  land  in  the 
west.  They  pass  the  Pillars  of  Hercules,  "tall  posts  of 
strong  marble  stone,"  where  they  find  the  mermaidens, 
"beasts  of  great  deceit,  and  so  sweet  that  many  men  are 
not  able  to  quit  them."  After  further  adventures  in  Spain 
and  France,  they  come  at  length  to  the  shores  of  England, 
and  land  "at  Dartmouth  in  Totnes."  The  remainder  of 
the  poem  recounts  the  legendary  history  of  Britain.  In 
treating  the  Arthur  legends,  Layamon  is  not  content  merely 
to  transcribe  his  predecessors.  His  home  was  near  the  bor- 
ders of  Wales,  where  these  legends  were  native;  and  he 
either  gathered  up  or  freely  invented  several  additions  of 
the  utmost  importance.  The  most  notable  of  these  are  his 
story  of  the  founding  of  the  Round  Table,  and  his  account 
of  the  fays  who  are  present  at  Arthur's  birth  and  who  carry 
him  after  his  last  battle  to  the  mystic  isle  of  Avalon. 

English  Imitations  of  Norman-French  Romances. — After 
Layamon  had  shown  the  way  to  romance  writing  in  the 
native  tongue,  other  poets  in  rapidly  increasing  numbers 
followed  in  his  footsteps.  Rude  at  first,  their  efforts  grad- 
ually approached,  in  ease  and  grace,  those  of  their  Norman- 
French  teachers.    Almost  all  the  English  romances  of  the 


Knightly  Literature  31 

thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries  are  free  renderings  from 
French  originals.  But  of  all  the  romances  in  English  of 
this  period,  such  as  King  Horn,  Havelock  the  Dane,  Sir 
Tristrem,  and  Morte  d'Arthure,  the  one  which  is  of  most  gen- 
uine native  English  workmanship  is  the  best  of  all,  and  is  one 
of  the  most  charming  romances  of  the  world.  This  is  Sir 
Gawayne  and  the  Green  Knight.  Its  date  is  about  13 20-1 330. 
The  summary  which  follows  will  serve  to  convey  some  idea 
of  the  charm  of  the  work,  and  through  a  single  instance  to 
give  some  insight  into  the  nature  of  the  metrical  romances 
as  a  whole. 

"  Sir  Gawayne  and  the  Green  Knight." — When  the  poem 
opens,  King  Arthur  and  his  court  are  gathered  in  the  hall 
at  Camelot  to  celebrate  the  feast  of  the  New  Year.  Suddenly 
there  rushes  in  at  the  hall  door  a  gigantic  knight,  clothed 
entirely  in  green,  mounted  on  a  green  foal,  and  bearing  in 
his  hand  a  great  axe.  He  rides  to  the  dais,  and  challenges 
any  knight  to  give  him  a  blow  with  his  axe,  and  to  abide 
one  in  turn.  Gawayne,  the  king's  nephew,  smites  off  the 
head  of  the  Green  Knight,  who  quietly  picks  it  up  by  the 
hair,  and  holds  it  out  toward  Gawayne,  untrl  the  lips  speak, 
commanding  him  to  appear  at  the  Green  Chapel  on  the  next 
New  Year's  day. 

On  All-hallow's  day,  Gawayne  sets  out  upon  his  horse 
Gringolet,  and  journeys  through  the  wilderness  until  at  last 
on  Christmas- eve  he  comes  to  a  fair  castle  standing  on  a  hill. 
Asking  shelter,  he  is  courteously  received  by  the  lord  of 
the  castle  and  his  fair  young  wife,  and  is  assured  that  the 
Green  Chapel  is  near  at  hand. 

After  the  Christmas  festivities  are  over,  his  host  prepares 
for  a  great  hunt,  to  last  three  days ;  and  a  jesting  compact  is 
made  between  them  that  at  the  end  of  each  day  they  shall 
give  each  other  whatever  good  thing  they  have  won.  While 
her  lord  is  absent  on  the  hunt,  the  lady  of  the  castle  tries  in 
vain  to  induce  Gawayne  to  make  love  to  her,  and  bestows 
upon  him  a  kiss.  Anxious  to  fulfil  his  compact,  he  in  turn 
gives  the  kiss  to  her  lord  each  night  when  the  hunt  is  over, 
and  receives  as  a  counter-gift  the  spoils  of  the  chase.  At 
their  last  meeting  the  lady  persuades  Gawayne  to  take  as  a 


32  Middle  English  Period 

gift  a  green  lace  belt  which  will  protect  him  from  mortal 
harm. 

On  New  Year's  morning  he  sets  out  through  a  storm  of 
snow  to  find  the  Green  Chapel.  It  proves  to  be  a  grass- 
covered  hollow  mound,  in  a  desert  valley.  The  Green 
Knight  appears,  and  deals  a  blow  with  his  axe  upon  Ga- 
wayne's  bent  neck.  But  he  only  pierces  the  skin,  and 
Gawayne,  seeing  the  blood  fall  on  the  snow,  claps  on  his 
helmet,  draws  his  sword,  and  declares  the  compact  fulfilled. 
The  Green  Knight  then  discloses  the  fact  that  he  is  the  lord 
of  the  castle  where  Gawayne  has  just  been  entertained,  that 
with  him  dwells  the  fairy-temptress  Morgain,  who,  because 
of  her  hatred  of  Guenevere,  had  sent  him  to  Camelot  to 
frighten  the  queen  with  the  sight  of  a  severed  head  talking, 
and  who  has  been  trying  to  lead  Gawayne  into  bad  faith, 
in  order  that  her  husband's  axe  might  have  power  upon  him. 
By  his  purity  and  truth  Gawayne  has  been  saved,  except 
for  the  slight  wound  as  punishment  for  concealing  the  gift 
of  the  girdle.  Gawayne  swears  to  wear  the  "lovelace"  in 
remembrance  of  his  weakness ;  and  ever  afterward  each  knight 
of  the  Round  Table,  and  every  lady  of  Arthur's  court,  wears 
a  bright  green  belt  for  Gawayne's  sake. 

The  picturesque  language  of  the  poem,  its  bright  humor 
and  fancy,  and  the  vivid  beauty  of  its  descriptions,  combine 
with  its  moral  sweetness  to  make  this  the  most  delightful 
blossom  of  all  pre-Chaucerian  romance.  Sir  Gawayne  and 
the  Green  Knight  contains  fair  promise  not  only  of  Chaucer's 
Knight's  Tale,  but  even  of  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene. 

III.  RELIGIOUS  LITERATURE  OF  THE  ANGLO-NORMAN  PERIOD 

The  "  Cursor  Mundi." — While  the  shimmering  tapestry  and 
cloth  of  gold  of  these  bright  romances  was  being  woven  to 
beguile  the  tedium  of  castle  halls,  a  more  sombre  literary 
fabric  grew  under  the  patient  hands  of  monks  and  religious 
enthusiasts.  The  Cursor  Mundi,  the  author  of  which  is 
unknown,  is  among  the  most  notable  of  these.  The  author, 
in  beginning,  laments  the  absorption  of  the  readers  of  his 
day  in  frivolous  romance,  and  proposes  to  give  them  in  place 


Religious  Literature  33 

of  these  vain  tales  of  earthly  love,  a  tale  of  divine  love  which 
shall  be  equally  thrilling.  He  then  proceeds  to  tell  in  flowing 
verse  the  story  of  God's  dealings  with  man,  from  the  Creation 
to  the  final  redemption,  following  in  general  the  biblical  nar- 
rative, but  adorning  it  with  popular  legends,  both  sacred  and 
secular,  and  with  all  manner  of  quaint  digressions. 

Richard  of  Hampole  :  the  "  Prick  of  Conscience." — Of  an- 
other religious  writer  whose  work  rises  to  the  dignity  of  litera- 
ture, the  name  and  story  have  fortunately  been  preserved. 
This  is  Richard  Rolle,  the  hermit  of  Hampole  in  southern 
Yorkshire,  who  was  born  about  1300  and  died  in  1349.  In 
his  youth  he  went  to  Oxford,  then  at  the  height  of  its  fame  as 
a  centre  of  scholastic  learning ;  but  he  soon  revolted  against  the 
dry  scholastic  teaching.  He  left  college,  made  him  a  hermit's 
shroud  out  of  two  of  his  sister's  gowns  and  his  father's  hood, 
and  began  the  life  of  a  religious  solitary  and  mystic.  His  cell 
at  Hampole,  near  a  Cistercian  nunnery,  was  after  his  death 
visited  as  a  miracle-working  shrine,  and  cared  for  by  the  nuns. 
He  wrote  many  canticles  of  divine  love,  some  of  which  are  of 
great  intensity.  His  longest  work  is  the  Prick  0}  Conscience, 
which  deals  with  the  life  of  man,  and  the  terrors  of  the  Last 
Judgment. 

The  "  Love-Rune  "  of  Thomas  de  Hales.— Of  all  the  re- 
ligious lyrical  writings  of  this  period,  the  most  beautiful  is  the 
famous  "Love  Rune"  of  Thomas  de  Hales,  a  monk  of  the 
Minor  Friars.  He  tells  us  in  the  first  stanza  that  he  was  be- 
sought by  a  maid  of  Christ  to  make  her  a  love-song,  in  order 
that  she  might  learn  therefrom  how  to  choose  a  worthy  and 
faithful  lover.  The  monkish  poet  consents,  but  goes  on  to 
tell  her  how  false  and  fleeting  is  all  worldly  love;  how  all 
earthly  lovers  vanish  and  are  forgotten.  "  But  there  is  another 
lover,"  the  poet  continues,  who  is  "richer  than  Henry  our 
King,  and  whose  dwelling  is  fairer  than  Solomon's  house  of 
jasper  and  sapphire.  Choose  Him,  and  may  God  bring  thee 
to  His  bride-chamber  in  Heaven." 

"  The  Pearl." — Another  religious  poem,  which  deserves  to 
be  classed  with  this  by  reason  of  its  beauty  and  humanity,  is 
much  longer.  It  is  called  The  Pearl.  The  poet  represents 
himself  as  falling  asleep  on  the  grave  of  his  lost  daughter, 


34  Middle  English  Period 

Margaret  (i.e.,  "the  pearl").  He  dreams  that  he  is  trans- 
ported to  a  wonderful  land,  through  which  a  musical  river 
flows  over  pearly  sand,  and  stones  that  glitte*r  like  stars  on  a 
winter  night.  On  the  other  side  of  the  river,  at  the  foot  of 
a  gleaming  cliff,  he  sees  his  daughter  sitting,  clothed  in  bright 
raiment  trimmed  with  pearls,  and  in  the  midst  of  her  breast 
a  great  pearl.  The  father  begs  to  be  taken  to  her  abiding- 
place  ;  she  tells  him  that  he  may  see,  but  cannot  enter,  "  that 
clean  cloister."  She  bids  him  go  along  the  river  bank  until 
he  comes  to  a  hill.  Arrived  at  the  top,  he  sees  afar  off  the 
city  of  Heaven,  "pitched  upon  gems,"  with  its  walls  of  jasper 
and  streets  of  gold.  At  the  wonder  of  the  sight  he  stands, 
"still  as  a  dazed  quail,"  and  gazing  sees,  "right  as  the 
mighty  moon  gan  rise,"  the  Virgins  walking  in  procession 
with  the  Lamb  of  God.     His  daughter  is  one  of  them. 

Then  I  saw  there  my  little  queen — 
Lord!  much  of  mirth  was  that  she  made 
Among  her  mates. 

He  strives  in  transport  to  cross  over  and  be  with  her;  but  it 
is  not  pleasing  to  God  that  he  should  come,  and  the  dreamer 
awakes. 

The  language  of  The  Pearl  has  the  same  vigor  and  pictur- 
esqueness  which  distinguishes  that  of  Sir  Gawayne  and  the 
Green  Knight.  This,  indeed,  has  come  down  to  us  in  the 
same  manuscript  with  The  Pearl.  Many  scholars  believe 
that  they  are  the  work  of  the  same  man.  If  so,  he  was  the 
most  considerable  poet  between  Cynewulf  and  Chaucer. 

IV.   END   OF   THE    PERIOD   OF   PREPARATION 

Early  Songs  and  Ballads. — As  early  as  the  middle  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  song  writers  began  to  put  to  beautiful 
use  the  new  tongue  formed  by  the  flowing  together  of  Saxon 
and  Norman-French.  We  possess  several  songs  written  be- 
tween 1250  and  1350,  which  have  in  them  the  promise  of 
Herrick  and  of  Shelley.  They  are  all  songs  of  love  and  of 
spring.  The  best  known  is  perhaps  the  "Cuckoo  Song," 
with  its  refrain  of  "Loude  sing  Cuckoo  1";  but  even  more 


•     End  of  the  Period  of  Preparation  35 

charming  is  the  spring-song  "Lent  is  come  with  love  to 
town,"  and  the  love-song  called  "Alysoun,"  with  its  delight- 
ful opening: 

Bitwene  Mersh  and  Averil 
When  spray  *  begineth  to  springe, 
The  little  fowle's  f  have  hyre  J  will 
On  hyre  lud  §  to  singe. 

To  this  period  also  probably  belong  the  ballads  which  sprang 
up  about  the  name  of  Robin  Hood,  the  popular  hero  of  Old 
England,  the  embodiment  of  its  delight  in  the  life  of  green 
forest  and  open  sky,  in  bluff,  shrewd  manners,  and  in  gener- 
ous adventure.  Rude  as  many  of  these  early  ballads  are, 
they  tell  their  story  in  a  wonderfully  fresh  and  vivid  way; 
and  they  are  full  of  charming  bits  of  nature-poetry. 

When  shaws  been  sheene,  and  shrads  full  fayre, 

And  leaves  both  large  and  long, 

It  is  merry  walking  in  the  fayre  forre'st 

To  heare  the  small  birde's  songe. 

Final  Result  of  the  Norman  Conquest. — The  England 
which  finds  utterance  in  these  songs  and  ballads  is  a  very 
different  England  from  that  which  had  spoken  in  "The  Wan- 
derer," and  "The  Battle  of  Brunanburh."  It  is  no  longer 
the  fierce  and  gloomy  aspects  of  nature,  but  her  bright  and 
laughing  moods,  that  are  sung.  Love  and  merry  adventure 
have  taken  the  place  of  war,  as  the  poet's  chief  theme.  The 
Norman  invasion  has  done  its  work.  The  conquerors  have 
ceased  to  be  such,  for  foreign  wars  and  centuries  of  domestic 
intercourse  have  broken  down  the  distinction  between  men 
of  Norman  and  men  of  Saxon  blood.  The  new  language 
is  formed,  a  new  and  vigorous  national  life  is  everywhere 
manifest.  A  new  poet  is  needed,  great  enough  to  gather 
up  and  make  intelligible  to  itself  this  shifting,  many-colored 
life ;  and  Chaucer  is  at  hand. 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— This  chapter  treats  of  England  under  the 
rule  of  the  Norman  and  Angevin  kings,  beginning  with  the  reign  of  the 

♦Foliage.  f  Birds.  J  Their.  §  Voice. 


36  Review  Outline 

Conqueror,  in  1066,  and  ending  with  the  close  of  Richard  IPs  reign  in 
1327.  It  covers,  therefore,  something  more  than  two  centuries  and  a 
half.  The  first  part  of  this  period  has  no  literary  history,  so  far 
as  English  is  concerned,  for  no  English  books  were  written,  except 
that  the  English  Chronicle  was  continued  at  the  monastery  of  Peter- 
borough until  1154.  The  first  part  of  the  chapter  deals  with  the 
fusion  of  the  Norman  and  Saxon  races.  The  Normans  were  not  orig- 
inally a  very  different  people  from  the  Saxons.  How  were  they  related, 
in  race  and  by  their  original  habits  of  life?  What  had  made  them 
different?  State  the  chief  facts  in  the  history  of  the  Norman-French 
up  to  the  time  of  the  conquest  of  England.  Note  the  changes  which 
took  place  in  England  by  reason  of  the  conquest,  in  architecture,  in 
laws,  in  speech.  Note  the  steps  by  which  the  two  peoples  drew  to- 
gether, politically,  under  William  I,  Henry  I,  Henry  II,  John  and 
Edwo.rd  I.  In  what  manner  did  the  English  speech  manage  to  survive? 
When  it  reappeared  again  as  a  written  language,  how  had  it  changed 
in  character?  How  long  did  it  take  this  new  language  to  absorb  the 
French?  In  view  of  the  fact  that  English  absorbed  a  body  of  French 
words  nearly  three  times  its  own  bulk,  how  do  you  explain  the  fact 
that  it  retained  its  individuality  as  a  language  ?  The  metrical  romance, 
or  chanson  de  geste  (song  of  deeds)  was  transplanted  to  English  soil 
at  the  very  beginning  of  the  Norman  occupation,  and  was  for  a  long 
time  written  only  in  French.  Note  the  various  sources  from  which 
these  romances  were  drawn;  note  also  that  the  use  of  the  King  Arthur 
legends  by  the  trouvferes  brought  into  English  literature  the  first  large 
Celtic  element,  corresponding  to  the  large  proportion  of  Celtic  blood 
in  the  Normans,  and  the  smaller  but  still  considerable  ingredient  which 
the  Saxons  had  absorbed  from  the  Celts  of  Britain.  Give  the  story  of 
Layamon,  and  indicate  the  nature  of  his  "  Brut."  What  elements  of  the 
King  Arthur  legend  did  he  add  to  what  was  already  given  by  his  prede- 
cessors ?  How  was  he  enabled  to  make  these  additions  ?  At  what  period 
were  the  French  romances  translated  into  English  ?  Outline  the  story  of 
SirGawayne  and  the  Green  Knight,  answering  the  following  questions: 
(a)  Why  does  Gawayne  set  out  to  find  the  Green  Chapel  ?  (b)  Whose  is 
the  castle  where  he  finds  shelter?  (c)  What  compact  does  ne  make 
with  the  lord  of  the  castle?  (d)  Why  does  Morgain  try  to  tempt  him  to 
deceive  the  lord  ?  (e)  Why  did  the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table  wear 
the  green  belt  ?  Why  is" The  Pearl"  so  called?  What  are  the  indi- 
cations in  the  ballads  and  songs  of  the  late  thirteenth  and  early 


Reading  Guide  37 

fourteenth  centuries  that  a  new  spirit  was  coming  over  English  liter- 
ature? Note  the  joyousness  and  outdoor  freshness  of  these  poems 
which  herald  Chaucer,  the  freshest  and  most  joyous  in  temper  of  all 
English  poets. 

READING  GUIDE.— The  literature  of  this  period  is  accessible  only 
with  difficulty  and  in  expensive  form;  little  or  nothing  can  be  required 
of  a  student  in  the  way  of  private  reading.  If  the  teacher  can  secure 
Ellis's  Specimens  of  Early  English  Metrical  Romances,  or  H.  Mor- 
ley's  Early  English  Prose  Romances  (in  the  Carisbrooke  Library 
series),  enough  should  be  read  to  the  class  to  illustrate  the  nature  of 
the  early  romance.  Extracts  from  Layamon's  "Brut"  and  an  epitome 
of  the  whole  poem  are  given  in  Morley's  English  Writers,  Vol.  Ill, 
pp.  212-227.  This  will  serve  admirably  for  illustration,  and  is  more 
accessible  than  the  above.  "The  Pearl,"  text  and  translation,  is  edited 
by  Israel  Gollanz  (Nutt).  *  The  lyrics  "Alysoun"  and  "Lent  is  come 
with  love  to  town"  are  given  in  Morris  and  Skeat's  Specimens  of 
Early  English.  The  "Love  Rune"  of  Thomas  de  Hales  can  be  found 
in  B.  Ten  Brink's  History  of  English  Literature,  Vol.  I. 

Fiction. — Charles  Kingsley's  "Hereward  the  Wake"  and  Sir  Walter 
Scott's  "Ivanhoe"  give  vivid  pictures  of  society  during  the  Norman 
and  Angevin  period.  Hereward  deals  with  the  times  of  William  I, 
Ivanhoe  with  those  of  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion. 

For  a  tabular  view  of  this  period,  see  close  of  Chapter  IV. 


■                              « 

| 

^^^B^lH^H'^d^^J 

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1 

W(':                   •-      A 

"■'^V? 

Photograph,  Copyright,  by  Frederick  Hollyer,  London 

GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 
From  the  Occleve  manuscript 


CHAPTER  IV 

MIDDLE  ENGLISH  PERIOD:   THE  AGE   OF 
CHAUCER 

I.   INTRODUCTION 

Historical  Events  of  Chaucer's  Time. — In  1327,  thirteen 
years  before  the  date  which  scholars  have  set  as  the  probable 
year  of  Chaucer's  birth,  Edward  III  came  to  the  throne  of 
England.  He  reigned  for  fifty  years,  and  the  first  part  of 
his  reign  was  one  of  prosperity  at  home  and  victory  abroad. 
Up  to  this  time  England  had  been  an  agricultural  country. 
Now,  taking  example  from  Flanders,  the  birthplace  of  Ed- 
ward's queen,  Philippa,  Englishmen  began  to  grow  wool 
on  a  large  scale.  Flemish  weavers  were  imported  to  teach 
them  to  manufacture  this  wool  into  finished  products.  The 
wool  industry  became  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  English 
wealth ;  and  to  symbolize  this  fact,  a  crimson  cushion  stuffed 
with  sheep  shearings,  the  Woolsack,  was  used  henceforth  as 
the  seat  of  the  lord  chancellor  in  the  upper  house  of  Parlia- 
ment. Early  in  Edward's  reign  the  French,  jealous  of  Eng- 
land's growing  trade,  attacked  her  merchant  ships.  In  re- 
taliation Edward  boldly  laid  claim  to  the  throne  of  France, 
to  which  he  had  a  shadowy  title.  Gathering  together  his 
mounted  knights  and  stout  yeomen,  armed  with  pike  and 
long-bow,  he  invaded  France,  and  in  1346  won  the  great 
victory  of  Crecy.  Ten  years  later  his  heroic  son,  the  Black 
Prince,  won  the  still  more  splendid  victory  of  Poictiers,  de- 
feating a  French  force  five  times  as  great  as  his  own,  and 
bringing  John,  the  French  king,  captive  to  London.  The 
struggle  with  France  went  on  for  a  long  time  under  succeed- 
ing kings ;  so  long,  indeed,  that  it  is  known  in  history  as  the 
Hundred  Years'  War.  Its  effect  was  immensely  to  strengthen 
the  unity  of  England.     It  was  the  Saxon  yeomen  with  their 

39 


40  Middle  English  Period 

long-bows  who  won  England's  victories  at  Crecy  and  Poic- 
tiers,  and  afterwards  at  Agincourt  under  Henry  V.  The  last 
remnants  of  hatred  and  suspicion  between  Norman  and 
Saxon  faded  away  in  a  common  national  pride  and  patriotism. 

Edward  Ill's  successor,  Richard  II,  came  to  the  throne  in 
1377.  He  was  so  weak  a  ruler  that  he  won  the  nickname  of 
Richard  the  Redeless.  The  royal  power  during  a  large  por- 
tion of  his  reign  of  twenty-two  years  was  in  the  hands  of 
his  uncle,  John  of  Gaunt,  brother  of  the  Black  Prince,  and 
the  patron  of  Chaucer.  In  1399,  a  year  before  Chaucer's 
death,  the  sceptre  was  wrested  from  Richard's  feeble  hands 
by  Henry  of  Bolingbroke,  duke  of  Lancaster,  son  of  John  of 
Gaunt,  who  ascended  the  throne  as  Henry  IV.  As  will  be 
seen,  almost  all  these  political  events  had  an  effect  in  deter- 
mining the  career  of  the  poet  whose  writings  remain  as  the 
chief  glory  of  this  epoch  of  English  history. 

Society  in  Chaucer's  Time. — The  society  of  the  period,  the 
brighter  and  happier  aspects  of  which  Chaucer  so  brilliantly 
portrayed,  was  full  of  sharp  contrasts.  Riches  and  poverty, 
splendor  and  squalor,  unbounded  license  and  the  most  crush- 
ing servitude,  existed  side  by  side.  No  bounds  were  set  to 
the  luxury  which  court  and  nobles  displayed  in  dress,  food, 
hunting  equipage  and  furnishings  of  war.  Rich  merchants 
vied  with  the  aristocratic  classes  in  the  splendor  of  their  way 
of  living ;  and  the  great  guilds,  or  brotherhoods  of  trade  and 
handicraft,  banqueted  in  halls  which  a  king  might  have 
envied.  On  the  other  hand,  a  large  proportion  of  the  popu- 
lation were  villeins  or  serfs,  bound  to  the  soil,  doomed  to 
pitiless  labor  and  harsh  exaction.  Nor  was  the  contrast 
merely  one  of  classes.  Lords  and  ladies,  dressed  in  rare 
silks  and  cloth  of  gold,  and  loaded  with  precious  gems,  ate 
from  golden  dishes  with  their  fingers,  forks  being  unknown ; 
and  threw  fragments  of  the  feast  to  the  dogs  who  quarrelled 
and  fought  among  the  soiled  rushes  of  the  floor.  At  a  time 
when  Edward  III  was  founding  Winchester  College,  the 
first  great  English  public  school,  and  when  Oxford  was 
awakening  to  a  new  enthusiasm  for  learning,  many  nobles 
could  not  read.  Printing  was  unknown;  books  had  to  be 
copied  by  hand,  and  were  very  cumbersome  and  expensive. 


Introduction  41 

Chivalry  had  reached  its  highest  point  of  outward  splendor; 
its  tournaments  and  other  ceremonies  were  miracles  of  great 
display:  but  as  a  vital  creed  it  was  fast  losing  its  hold  upon 
men.  Side  by  side  with  the  corrupt  clergy,  who  in  their  great 
abbeys  and  monasteries  lived  a  life  of  sensual  ease,  we  find  an 
organization  of  "poor  priests"  going  up  and  down  the  country 
with  bare  feet,  staff,  and  russet  gown,  preaching  the  pure 
word  of  God  in  all  meekness  and  self-sacrifice. 

The  London  of  Chaucer's  day  was  in  some  respects  a 
stately  city.  On  the  north  ran  a  strong  feudal  wall  with  tower- 
guarded  gates;  on  the  south  flowed  the  broad  river,  crowded 
with  shipping,  and  spanned  by  a  great  bridge  on  which  houses 
and  shops  clustered  thick ;  the  gloomy  massive  Tower  rose  at 
one  end  of  the  city,  the  beautiful  abbey  of  Westminster  and 
the  Parliament  Hall  at  the  other,  and  the  Gothic  spires  of  old 
St.  Paul's  crowned  the  hill  between;  noblemen's  palaces, 
guild-halls,  monasteries  and  churches,  of  rich  and  pictur- 
esque design,  gave  splendor  to  the  narrow,  tortuous,  and  ill- 
kept  streets.  Throughout  the  country  the  gloomy  Norman 
castles,  with  their  moats  and  thick-walled  donjon-keeps, 
had  given  way  to  castles  which,  though  still  fortified,  were 
more  friendly  and  habitable.  The  cultivated  parts  of  the 
island  were  dotted  with  manor  houses  where  hearty  free- 
holders, like  the  franklin  of  the  Canterbury  Tales,  ruled 
their  broad  acres  and  dispensed  a  bounteous  hospitality. 
Travel  was  very  unsafe,  for  men  in  "buckram  and  Kendal 
green,"  the  successors  of  Robin  Hood  and  his  merry  men, 
lay  in  wait  for  booty,  and  levied  tribute  upon  merchant, 
nobleman,  and  churchman  alike.  England's  navy  had  al- 
ready come  into  being,  and  her  growing  sea-trade,  with  which 
piracy  and  smuggling  were  not  seldom  combined,  filled  her 
seaports  with  a  motley  crowd  of  foreign  types.  Internal  com- 
merce was  carried  on  largely  by  means  of  fairs,  where  chap- 
men brought  their  wares  and  mountebanks  their  tricks,  as  to 
that  fair  which  Bunyan  described,  three  centuries  later,  in 
his  Pilgrim's  Progress.  News  was  spread  chiefly  by  wander- 
ing pedlers,  or  by  pilgrims  journeying  to  or  from  some  holy 
shrine.  The  sports  of  the  nobility  and  clergy  were  hunting, 
hawking,  and  jousting  at  tournaments;  the  poorer  classes 


42  Middle  English  Period 

amused  themselves  with  wrestling,  single-stick,  archery,  and 
in  many  cruder  ways,  such  as  baiting  bulls  and  bears  with 
savage  dogs.  All  classes  alike  looked  on  with  awed  interest 
at  the  miracle-plays,  biblical  dramas  presented  by  appren- 
tices of  the  trade  guilds,  with  a  movable  wagon  for  stage 
and  the  open  street  for  theatre. 

Such  was  the  picturesque  and  varied  society  which  Chaucer, 
the  great  realist  and  observer,  brings  before  us.  A  part  of 
the  rich  heritage  he  has  left  us  he  received  from  loving  ac- 
quaintance with  nature ;  a  part  came  to  him  through  books, 
of  which  he  was  a  devoted  student ;  but  the  greater  part  came 
from  the  human  life  about  him.  He  was  at  once  a  dreamer, 
a  student,  and  a  man  of  affairs ;  and  it  was  in  this  last  capacity 
that  he  got  his  largest  training, — from  war,  the  court,  travel, 
business,  and  politics. 

II.    GEOFFREY   CHAUCER    (134O-1400) 

Chaucer's  Youth. — Geoffrey  Chaucer  was  born  about  1340, 
of  a  family  of  London  merchants.  His  father,  a  member  of 
the  Corporation  of  Vintners,  had  been  purveyor  to  King  Ed-  - 
ward  III.  When  Chaucer  was  a  boy  of  six  the  nation  was 
stirred  by  the  news  of  Crecy ;  and  as  a  lad  of  sixteen  he  may 
have  witnessed,  after  Poictiers,  the  triumphal  entry  of  the 
Black  Prince  into  London,  bringing  with  him  as  a  captive 
the  French  king.  The  connection  of  Chaucer's  father  with 
the  court,  as  purveyor  of  wines  to  the  royal  table,  may  have 
been  the  circumstance  which  made  it  possible  for  Chaucer, 
when  about  seventeen,  to  become  a  page  in  the  household  of 
the  king's  daughter-in-law,  the  Duchess  of  Clarence.  Two 
years  later  he  went  with  the  king's  army  to  France.  Here  he 
saw  unrolled  the  brilliant  pageant  of  mediaeval  war,  at  a  time 
when  chivalry  and  knighthood,  though  they  had  lost  some- 
thing of  their  inner  meaning,  still  gave  occasion  for  rich 
display.  He  beheld  the  unsuccessful  siege  of  the  city  of 
Rheims,  was  captured  by  the  French,  and  held  as  a  prisoner 
of  war  until  ransomed  by  his  royal  master. 

Chaucer's  French  Period. — On  his  return  to  England  Chau- 
cer was  made  a  Squire  of  the  King's  Bedchamber,  and  proba- 


Geoffrey  Chaucer  43 

bly  spent  the  next  ten  years  at  Edward's  court,  then  the  most 
brilliant  in  Europe.  The  court  of  Edward  was  still  prac- 
tically a  French  court;  and  Chaucer,  although  he  seems  to 
have  decided  very  early  to  use  his  native  tongue,  necessarily 
turned  to  France  for  his  literary  models.  The  first  period  of 
his  poetic  life  was  spent  in  learning  all  that  the  French 
trouveres  and  ballad-writers  had  to  teach  him  concerning  his 
chosen  art.  The  most  famous  work  which  the  school  of 
French  trouveres  had  produced  was  the  Roman  de  la  Rose, 
an  elaborate  allegory  of  love,  the  rose,  growing  in  a  mystic 
garden,  warded  by  symbolic  figures  from  the  lover's  approach. 
The  Roman  de  la  Rose  was  Chaucer's  first  training  school, 
and  he  took  his  training  with  characteristic  thoroughness 
by  translating  the  poem  into  English  verse.  Less  than  two 
thousand  lines  of  this  translation  have  survived ;  indeed,  the 
whole  may  never  have  been  completed.  But  the  Roman 
de  la  Rose  left  a  profound  impression  upon  Chaucer's  work, 
and  for  years  he  thought  and  wrote  in  the  atmosphere  which 
it  created  for  him.  During  these  years  of  French  influence 
he  wrote,  for  the  knights  and  ladies  of  King  Edward's  court, 
those  "ballades,  roundels,  virelays,"  by  which  his  fellow-poet 
Gower  says  "the  land  fulfilled  was  over- all."  The  most 
important  work  which  remains  to  us  from  his  pure  French 
period,  however,  is  the  Book  of  the  Duchesse,  also  known 
as  "The  Death  of  Blaunche  the  Duchesse,"  written  in  1369, 
to  solace  the  bereavement  of  her  husband,  John  of  Gaunt, 
the  king's  third  son. 

Chaucer's  Middle  Life :  Italian  Period. — In  1370,  Chaucer 
was  sent  to  the  Continent  on  royal  business.  This  was  the 
first  of  many  official  missions  which  he  executed  for  the  king 
during  the  next  ten  years,  in  various  parts  of  Europe,  especially 
in  Italy,  where  he  went  twice  as  the  king's  emissary.  The 
opportunity  afforded  by  these  journeys  for  converse  with 
many  types  of  men,  and  observation  of  widely  varying  man- 
ners, was  of  the  utmost  importance  in  his  poetic  education. 

On  Chaucer's  return  to  England  after  his  first  Italian  mis- 
sion, in  1372,  his  services  were  rewarded  by  the  gift  of  the  im- 
portant post  of  controller  of  the  customs  on  wool,  skins,  and 
tanned  hides  at  the  port  of  London ;  to  which  was  added  the 


44  Middle  English  Period 

grant  of  a  daily  pitcher  of  wine  from  the  king's  cellars.  His 
office  as  controller  was  an  arduous  one,  requiring  his  constant 
attendance.  He  was  by  this  time  married  to  Philippa,  lady- 
in-waiting  to  the  queen,  and  lived  in  a  house  over  one  of  the 
city  gates  near  the  Tower.  We  get  from  his  poems  various 
glimpses  of  his  daily  life,  especially  of  his  eagerness  for  study, 
which,  after  the  day's  work  was  done,  would  send  him  home, 
regardless  of  rest  and  "newe  thinges,"  to  sit  "as  domb  as 
any  stone"  over  his  book,  until  his  eyes  were  dazed.  But 
he  was  more  than  a  student.  The  great  books  he  had  come 
to  know  in  Italy  gave  him  no  peace,  until  he  should  equal 
or  surpass  them.  In  1382,  on  the  betrothal  of  the  boy  king, 
Richard  II,  to  the  young  princess  Anne  of  Bohemia,  Chau- 
cer wrote  a  wedding  poem  for  the  royal  pair,  the  Parlement 
0}  Fowls.  Troilus  and  Creseide  and  the  House  of  Fame  be- 
long also  to  this  central  or  "Italian,"  period,  of  Chaucer's 
literary  life.  In  1385  he  was  allowed  to  discharge  his  duties 
as  customs  officer  by  deputy.  The  first  result  of  his  new- 
found leisure  was  The  Legend  oj  Good  Women,  dedicated  to 
the  young  queen. 

Chaucer's  Later  Life :  English  Period. — In  1386  Chaucer 
was  sent  to  Parliament  as  member  from  Kent.  This  Parlia- 
ment was  in  opposition  to  Chaucer's  patron,  John  of  Gaunt, 
and  Chaucer  was  deprived  of  his  office  as  controller.  Three 
years  later  John  of  Gaunt  regained  influence,  and  as  a  re- 
newed sign  of  favor  Chaucer  was  made  clerk  of  the  king's 
works  (supervising  architect)  at  Westminster,  the  Tower, 
Windsor  Castle,  and  other  places.  During  these  years  his 
masterpiece,  the  Canterbury  Tales,  was  written.  Toward  the 
end  of  Richard  II's  reign  Chaucer  fell  into  poverty,  from 
causes  not  well  known;  but  in  1399,  on  the  accesssion  of 
Henry  IV,  a  ballad  entitled  "The  Compleint  of  Chaucer  to 
his  Empty  Purse"  brought  him  substantial  aid.  He  died 
in  1400. 

Influence  of  Italy  Upon  Chaucer. — The  most  important 
event  in  Chaucer's  life  was  his  first  visit  to  Italy,  on  the  king's 
business,  in  1372.  Italy  was  then  at  the  zenith  of  her  artistic 
energy,  in  the  full  splendor  of  that  illumination  which  had 
followed  the  intellectual  twilight  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and 


Geoffrey  Chaucer  45 

which  we  know  as  the  Renaissance,  or  "New  Birth."  Each 
of  her  little  city-states  was  a  centre  of  marvellous  activity, 
and  everywhere  were  being  produced  those  masterpieces  of 
painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  which  still  make  Italy 
a  place  of  pilgrimage  for  all  lovers  of  art.  The  literary  ac- 
tivity was  equally  great,  at  least  in  Tuscany.  The  world 
which  lay  open  to  Chaucer's  gaze  when  he  crossed  the 
Alps,  was  one  calculated  to  fascinate  and  stimulate  him  in 
the  highest  degree.  Whether  he  saw  Petrarch  or  Boccaccio 
in  person  is  not  known,  but,  from  this  time  on,  his  work  was 
largely  influenced  by  them,  as  well  as  by  Dante.  Through 
all  three  he  came  into  closer  contact  with  the  great  literature 
of  the  past,  and  acquired  a  new  reverence  for  the  ancient 
masters. 

"Troilus  and  Creseide." — Both  the  Parlement  of  Fowls 
and  the  House  of  Fame  are  colored  with  Italian  reminis- 
cence ;  but  the  chief  fruit  of  Chaucer's  Italian  journeys  was 
the  long  poem  adapted  from  Boccaccio's  Philostrato  (The 
Love-stricken  One),  entitled  by  Chaucer  Troilus  and  Cres- 
eide. The  story  of  the  love  of  the  young  Trojan  hero  for 
Cressida,  and  of  her  desertion  of  him  for  the  Greek  Diome- 
des,  Chaucer  pretended  only  to  translate,  but  he  changed 
the  theme  radically.  In  his  hands,  the  lovers'  go-between, 
Pandarus,  is  transformed  from  a  gilded  youth  of  Troilus 's 
own  age  and  temperament,  to  a  middle-aged  man,  plausible, 
good-natured,  full  of  easy  worldly  wisdom  and  vulgar  ideals 
— a  character  as  truly  alive  as  if  Shakespeare  had  drawn  him. 
The  growth  of  the  love-passion  in  Cressida's  heart  is  traced 
through  its  gradual  stages  with  a  truth  and  insight  entirely 
new  in  English  poetry.  The  "  background  "  of  the  poem  is 
painted  with  the  most  delightful  realism.  Though  the  scene 
is  ancient  Troy,  and  the  costumes  are  those  of  mediaeval 
knights  and  ladies,  we  seem,  in  many  passages  of  the  poem, 
to  be  looking  at  a  modern  play  or  reading  from  a  modern 
novel,  so  homely  and  actual  does  it  appear. 

"  The  Legend  of  Good  Women." — The  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  which  marks  the  close  of  Chaucer's  Italian  period, 
has  for  its  prologue  the  most  charming  of  the  poet's  many 
passages  of  personal  confession  and  self-revealment.     He 


46  Middle  English  Period 

represents  himself  as  wandering  in  the  fields  on  the  May- 
day, the  only  season  which  can  tempt  him  from  his  books. 
The  birds  are  singing  to  their  mates  their  song  of  "blessed 
be  Seynt  Valentyn!",  and  Zephyrus  and  Flora,  as  "god  and 
goddesse  of  the  flowery  mede,"  have  spread  the  earth  with 
fragrant  blossoms.  But  the  poet  has  eyes  only  for  one  flower, 
the  daisy,  the"emperice  (empress)  and  flower  of  floweres 
alle."  All  day  long  he  leans  and  pores  upon  the  flower; 
and  when  at  last  it  has  folded  its  leaves  at  the  coming  of 
night,  he  goes  home  to  rest,  with  the  thought  of  rising  early 
to  gaze  upon  it  once  more.  He  makes  his  couch  out-of-doors, 
in  a  little  arbor,  and  here  he  has  a  wonderful  dream.  He 
dreams  that  he  is  again  in  the  fields,  kneeling  by  the  daisy, 
and  sees  approaching  a  procession  of  bright  forms.  First 
comes  the  young  god  of  love,  clad  in  silk  embroidered  with 
red  rose-leaves  and  sprays  of  green,  his  "gilt  hair"  crowned 
with  light,  in  his  hand  two  fiery  darts,  and  his  wings  spread 
angel-like.  He  leads  by  the  hand  a  queen,  clad  in  green  and 
crowned  with  a  fillet  of  daisies  under  a  band  of  gold.  She  is 
Alcestis,  who  died  to  save  her  husband  Admetus.  Behind 
her  comes  an  endless  train  of  women  who  have  been  "true 
of  love."  They  kneel  in  a  circle  about  the  poet,  and  sing 
honor  to  woman's  truth,  and  to  the  daisy  flower,  the  emblem 
of  Alcestis.  The  love-god  then  glowers  angrily  upon  Chau- 
cer, and  upbraids  him  for  having  done  despite  to  women, 
in  translating  the  Roman  de  la  Rose,  with  its  satire  upon 
their  foibles ;  and  in  writing  the  story  of  Cressida,  so  dishon- 
orable to  the  steadfastness  of  the  sex.  Alcestis  comes  to  his 
rescue,  and  agrees  to  pardon  his  misdeeds  if  he  will  spend 
the  rest  of  his  life  in  making  a  "glorious  Legend  of  Good 
Women,"  and  will  send  it,  on  her  behalf,  to  the  English 
queen.  Chaucer  promises  solemnly,  and  as  soon  as  he 
wakes,  betakes  himself  to  his  task. 

It  is  probable  that  Chaucer  did  indeed  enter  upon  this 
poem  with  the  design  of  devoting  to  it  many  years,  and  of 
making  it  his  masterpiece.  But  he  left  it  unfinished,  per- 
haps for  the  reason  that  all  the  stories  illustrate  the  same 
theme,  and  lack,  when  taken  together,  that  element  of  sur- 
prise and  contrast  essential  to  keep  up  the  interest. 


Geoffrey  Chaucer  47 

"  The  Canterbury  Tales." — The  drift  of  Chaucer's,  genius, 
as  he  grew  older,  was  more  and  more  toward  the  portrayal 
of  actual  life.  He  had  a  wide  experience  of  men,  of  all 
ranks  and  conditions ;  and  he  had  been  storing  up  for  years, 
with  his  keenly  observant,  quiet  eyes,  the  materials  for  a 
presentation  of  contemporary  society  on  a  great  scale.  More- 
over, while  Chaucer  was  growing  up,  England  had  been 
growing  conscious  of  herself.  The  struggle  with  France  had 
at  last  unified  the  people.  They  were  no  longer  Norman 
and  Saxon,  but  English ;  and  the  brilliancy  of  Edward  Ill's 
early  reign  had  given  to  this  new  people  their  first  intoxicating 
draught  of  national  pride.  The  growing  power  of  parlia- 
ment tended  to  foster  in  the  nation  the  feeling  of  unity  and 
strength.  As  a  member  of  parliament  and  a  government 
officer,  Chaucer  felt  these  influences  to  the  full.  It  must 
have  seemed  more  and  more  important  to  him  that  the  crown- 
ing work  of  his  life  should  in  some  way  represent  the  varied 
spectacle  of  the  society  in  which  he  moved.  With  the  happy 
fortune  of  genius,  he  hit,  in  his  Canterbury  Tales,  upon  a 
scheme  wonderfully  conceived  for  the  ends  he  had  in  view. 
Collections  of  stories,  both  secular  and  sacred,  had  been 
popular  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  Renaissance  inherited 
the  taste  for  them.  Boccaccio  had  set  the  example  of  throw- 
ing a  graceful  trellis- work  of  incident  and  dialogue  about  the 
separate  stories  of  a  collection.  Chaucer,  while  adopting  a 
similar  framework,  made  his  setting  thoroughly  national  and 
racy ;  individualized  his  characters  so  as  to  make  of  them  a 
gallery  of  living  portraits  of  his  time. 

The  Pilgrims  at  the  Tabard. — He  represents  himself  as 
alighting,  one  spring  evening,  at  the  Tabard  Inn,  in  South- 
wark,  a  suburb  at  the  southern  end  of  London  Bridge,  where 
afterward  the  famous  Elizabethan  playhouses,  Shakespeare's 
among  them,  were  to  arise.  Southwark  was  the  place  of 
departure  and  arrival  for  all  South-of-England  travel,  and 
especially  for  pilgrimages  to  the  world-renowned  shrine  of 
Thomas-a-Becket,  at  Canterbury.  A  company  bent  on  such 
a  pilgrimage  Chaucer  finds  gathered  at  the  inn.  He  makes 
their  acquaintance,  and  joins  himself  with  them  for  the  jour- 
ney.    Counting  the  poet,  they  are  thirty  in  all.     There  is  a 


48  Middle  English  Period 

Knight  lately  from  the  foreign  wars,  a  man  who  has  fought  in 
Prussia  and  in  Turkey,  jousted  in  Trasimene,  and  been 
present  at  the  storming  of  Alexandria — a  high-minded,  gen- 
tle-mannered, knightly  adventurer,  type  of  the  chivalry  which 
in  Chaucer's  time  was  passing  rapidly  away.  With  him  is 
his  son,  a  young  squire,  curly-haired  and  gay,  his  short 
white-sleeved  gown  embroidered  like  a  mead  with  red  and 
white  flowers;  he  is  an  epitome  of  the  gifts  and  graces  of 
brilliant  youth.  It  is  pleasant  to  think  of  the  Squire  as  repre- 
senting Chaucer  himself,  as  he  was  when  a  young  man  at 
Edward's  court.  Their  servant  is  a  yeoman,  in  coat  and  hood 
of  green,  a  sheaf  of  peacock-arrows  under  his  belt,  a  mighty 
bow  in  his  hand,  and  a  silver  image  of  St.  Christopher  upon 
his  breast ;  he  is  the  type  of  that  sturdy  English  yeomanry 
which  with  its  gray-goose  shafts  humbled  the  pride  of  France 
at  Crecy  and  Agincourt. 

There  is  a  whole  group  of  ecclesiastical  figures,  repre- 
senting in  their  numbers  and  variety  the  immense  growth 
of  the  mediaeval  Church.  Most  of  them  are  satirical  por- 
traits, in  their  worldliness  and  gross  materialism  only  too 
faithful  representatives  of  the  corrupt  Catholicism  against 
which  the  reformer  Wyclif  struggled.  First  of  all  there  is 
a  monk,  who  cares  only  for  hunting  and  good  cheer ;  his  bald 
head  shines  like  glass,  his  "steep  eyes"  roll  in  his  head;  he 
rides  a  sleek  brown  palfrey,  and  has  "many  a  dainty  horse" 
in  his  stables;  his  sleeves  'are  trimmed  with  fine  fur  at 
the  wrists,  his  hood  is  fastened  under  his  chin  with  a  gold 
love  knot.  As  a  companion  figure  to  the  hunting  monk, 
Chaucer  gives  us  "Madame  Eglantyne,"  the  prioress;  she  is 
a  teacher  of  young  ladies,  speaks  French  with  a  provincial 
accent,  "after  the  school  of  Stratford-atte-bowe " ;  she  is  ex- 
quisite in  her  table-manners,  counterfeiting  as  well  as  she 
can  the  stately  behavior  of  the  court.  Other  ecclesiastics 
are  there,  hangers-on  and  caterpillars  of  the  Church:  the 
Summoner,  a  repulsive  person  with  "fire-red  cherubim  face"  ; 
the  Pardoner,  with  his  bag  full  of  pardons,"  come  from  Rome 
all  hot,"  and  of  bits  of  cloth  and  pig's-bones  which  he  sells 
as  relics  of  the  holy  saints.  Chaucer's  treatment  of  these 
evil  churchmen  is  highly  good-natured  and  tolerant;  he 


Geoffrey  Chaucer  49 

never  takes  the  tone  of  moral  indignation  against  them.  But 
he  does  better ;  he  sets  beside  them,  as  a  type  of  the  true  shep- 
herd of  the  Church,  a  "poor  parson,"  such  as,  under  Wyclif's 
teaching,  had  begun  that  great  movement  for  the  purifica- 
tion of  the  Church  which  was  to  result,  more  than  a  cen- 
tury later,  in  the  Reformation.  Chaucer  paints  the  char- 
acter of  the  Parson,  poor  in  this  world's  goods  but  "rich 
of  holy  thought  and  work,"  with  loving  and  reverent  touch. 
The  Parson's  brother  travels  with  him — a  Plowman,  a 
"true  s winker  and  a  good,"  who  helps  his  poor  neighbors 
without  hire  and  loves  them  as  himself;  he  reminds  us  of 
that  Piers  Plowman  of  whom  Langland,  Chaucer's  great 
contemporary,  wrote  in  his  "Vision."  A  crowd  of  other 
figures  fill  the  canvas.  There  is  a  Shipman  from  the  west- 
country,  a  representative  of  those  adventurous  seamen,  half 
merchant-sailors,  half  smugglers  and  pirates,  who  had  al- 
ready made  England's  name  a  terror  on  the  seas,  and  paved 
the  way  for  her  future  naval  supremacy.  There  is  a  poor 
Clerk  of  Oxford,  riding  a  horse  as  lean  as  a  rake,  and  dressed 
in  threadbare  cloak,  who  spends  all  that  he  can  beg  or  bor- 
row upon  books;  he  represents  that  passion  for  learning 
which  was  already  astir  everywhere  in  Europe.  There  is 
a  Merchant,  in  a  Flemish  beaver,  on  a  high  horse,  conceal- 
ing, with  the  grave  importance  of  his  air,  the  fact  that  he 
is  in  debt.  There  is  a  group  of  guild-men,  in  the  livery  of 
their  guild,  all  worthy  to  be  aldermen;  together  with  the 
merchant,  they  represent  the  mercantile  and  manufacturing 
activity  which  was  lifting  England  rapidly  to  the  rank  of 
a  great  commercial  power.  There  is  the  Wife  of  Bath,  a 
figure  conceived  with  masterly  humor  and  realism ;  she  has 
had  "husbands  five  at  church-door,"  and,  though' "somdel 
deaf,"  expects  to  live  to  wed  several  others ;  she  rides  on  an 
ambler,  with  spurs  and  scarlet  hose  on  her  feet,  and  on  her 
head  a  hat  as  broad  as  a  buckler.  These,  and  a  dozen  others, 
are  all  painted  in  vivid  colors,  and  with  wonderful  truth  to 
nature.  Taken  as  a  whole,  they  represent  the  entire  range 
of  English  society  in  the  fourteenth  century,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  highest  aristocracy  and  the  lowest  order  of 
serfs. 


50  Middle  English  Period 

At  supper  this  goodly  company  hears  from  the  host  of 
the  Tabard  a  proposition  that  on  their  journey  to  Canter- 
bury, to  beguile  the  tedium  of  the  ride,  each  of  them  shall 
tell  two  tales,  and  on  the  homeward  journey  two  more.*  He 
agrees  to  travel  with  them,  to  act  as  master-of-ceremonies, 
and  on  their  return  to  render  judgment  as  to  who  has  told 
the  best  story,  the  winner  to  be  given  a  supper  at  the  general 
expense.     So  it  is  agreed. 

The  Pilgrims  on  the  Road. — The  next  morning  they  set 
out  bright  and  early  on  their  journey  southward  to  the  cathe- 
dral city.  They  draw  lots  to  determine  who  shall  tell  the 
first  tale.  The  lot  falls  to  the  Knight,  who  tells  the  charming 
chivalric  story  of  "Palamon  and  Arcite."  When  it  is  fin- 
ished the  Host  calls  upon  the  Monk  to  follow.  But  the 
Miller,  who  is  already  drunk  and  quarrelsome,  insists  on 
being  heard,  and  launches  forthwith  into  a  very  unedifying 
tale.  The  Host  rises  in  his  stirrups  and  calls  on  the  Parson 
for  a  story,  "by  Goddes  dignitee!"  The  Parson  reproves 
him  for  swearing;  whereupon  the  Host  cries  that  he  "smells 
a  Lollard  f  in  the  wind,"  and  bids  the  company  prepare  for 
a  sermon.  This  is  too  much  for  the  Shipman,  who  breaks 
in  impatiently.  When  the  Host  calls  upon  the  Prioress,  he 
changes  his  bluff  manner  to  correspond  with  her  rank  and 
excessive  refinement,  speaking  with  polite  circumlocution, 
"as  courteously  as  it  had  been  a  maid."  The  Prioress  re- 
sponds graciously,  and  tells  the  story  of  "Hugh  of  Lincoln," 
the  little  martyr  who,  after  his  throat  had  been  cut  by  the 
wicked  Jews,  and  his  body  thrown  into  a  pit,  still  sang  with 
clear  young  voice  his  Alma  Redemptoris  to  the  glory  of  the 
Virgin. 

So  the  stories  continue,  interrupted  by  vivid  dialogue 
and  action  on  the  part  of  the  pilgrims.  Two  of  the  most 
charming  tales  are  told  by  the  Clerk  and  the  young  Squire. 
The  Clerk,  after  he  has  been  rallied  by  the  Host  upon  his 

*  Counting  the  Canon's  Yeoman  (who  joins  them  on  the  road)  the  story- 
tellers are  thirty-one  in  number,  making  a  total  of  a  hundred  and  twenty- 
four  tales  to  be  told.  Less  than  a  fifth  of  this  number  were  actually  written, 
and  several  of  these  were  left  fragmentary. 

t  The  followers  of  Wyclif  were  called  Lollards.     See  p.  53. 


Geoffrey  Chaucer  51 

still  and  thoughtful  manner  of  riding,  agrees  to  relate  a 
story  which  he  learned  at  Padua  of  "Francis  Petrarch, 
the  laureate  poet,  whose  rhetoric  sweet  enlumined  all  Italy 
of  poetry."  It  is  the  story  of  Patient  Grissel,  which  Chau- 
cer borrowed  from  Petrarch's  Latin  version.  The  Squire's 
tale,  as  befits  his  years  and  disposition,  is  a  bright  tale  of  love, 
adventure,  and  magic,  in  which  figure  a  flying  horse  of  brass 
and  other  wonders. 

Chaucer's  Picture  of  Himself  among  the  Pilgrims. — Chau- 
cer introduces  himself  into  the  succession  of  story-tellers  with 
characteristic  modesty  and  sly  humor.  Sobered  by  the 
miraculous  tale  of  Hugh  of  Lincoln,  the  company  is  riding 
silently  along,  when  the  Host,  to  break  the  awe-struck  mood, 
turns  to  Chaucer,  and  begins  to  joke  him  upon  his  shy  ab- 
stracted air  and  his  corpulency: 

"what  man  artow?"  quod  he; 
"Thou  lokest  as  thou  woldest  finde  an  hare, 
For  ever  upon  the  ground  I  see  thee  stare. 
Approache  neer,  and  loke  up  merily. 
Now  war  yow,  sirs,  and  lat  this  man  have  place; 
He  in  the  waist  is  shape  as  wel  as  I     .     .     . 
He  semeth  elvish  by  his  countenaunce 
For  unto  no  wight  dooth  he  daliaunce." 

Chaucer,  thus  rallied,  begins  one  of  those  doggerel  rhymes 
of  knightly  adventure,  to  which  the  romances  of  chivalry  had 
in  his  day  degenerated.  The  "Rhyme  of  Sir  Thopas"  is  a 
capital  burlesque  of  a  style  of  poetry  which  Chaucer  himself 
had  come  to  supplant.  He  has  not  got  far  before  the  Host 
cries  out  upon  the  "drasty  rhyming,"  and  Chaucer  meekly 
agrees  to  contribute  instead  "a  little  thing  in  prose,"  a  "moral 
tale";  and  he  proceeds  with  the  story  of  Melibeus  and  his 
wife  Prudence.  It  is  very  dreary  tale  indeed,  matched  for 
tediousness  only  by  the  prose  sermon  put  into  the  mouth  of 
the  Parson,  with  which  the  Canterbury  Tales,  in  the  frag- 
mentary form  in  which  they  were  left,  conclude.  It  is 
curious  to  note  how  Chaucer's  style  becomes  awkward,  in- 
volved, and  wearisome,  as  soon  as  he  deserts  his  natural 
medium  of  verse,  and  attempts  to  write  in  prose. 


52  Middle  English  Period 

Chaucer's  Literary  Art. — In  the  sixteenth  century  and 
later,  when,  owing  to  the  change  in  the  pronunciation  of 
words  (especially  the  loss  of  the  final  e),  the  secret  of  Chau- 
cer's versification  was  lost,  he  was  regarded  as  a  barbarous 
writer,  ignorant  of  prosody,  and  with  no  ear  for  the  melody 
of  verse.  The  contrary  of  this  was  the  case.  He  was  an 
artist  in  verse-effects,  who  paid  heed  to  all  the  niceties  of 
rhythm  and  tone-color.  In  a  half-humorous  address  to  his 
scrivener  Adam,  he  calls  down  curses  upon  that  unworthy 
servant,  for  spoiling  good  verses  by  bad  copying,  and  in 
Troilus  and  Creseide  he  beseeches  his  readers  not  to  "mis- 
metre"  his  book.  From  his  very  earliest  poems,  his  work  is 
in  all  formal  details  faultless ;  and  as  he  progressed  in  skill, 
his  music  became  constantly  more  varied  and  flexible.  His 
early  manner  reaches  its  height  in  the  exquisite  rondel,  in- 
tricate in  form  but  handled  with  great  simplicity  of  effect, 
which  brings  the  Parlement  of  Fowls  to  a  melodious  close. 
A  good  example  of  his  later  music  may  be  found  in  the 
description  of  the  Temple  of  Venus  in  the  "Knight's  Tale" ; 
or,  as  a  study  in  a  graver  key,  in  the  ballad  "Flee  fro  the 
Press,"  which  marks  so  impressively  the  deepening  serious- 
ness of  Chaucer's  mind  in  his  last  years. 

III.     JOHN   WYCLIF    (i 32O-I384) 

The  Peasant  Rebellion. — The  second  half  of  the  four- 
teenth century  was  a  time  of  great  suffering  among  the  poor 
people  of  England.  Four  terrible  plagues,  the  first  in  1349, 
the  last  in  1375,  swept  over  the  country,  carrying  death 
everywhere.  Frightful  storms  destroyed  the  crops.  The 
exactions  of  the  Church,  the  extravagances  of  Edward  III, 
and  the  heavy  cost  of  his  foreign  wars,  added  to  the  burden 
borne  by  the  distracted  peasantry.  In  1381  an  immense 
uprising  of  the  peasants  occurred,  under  the  leadership  of 
Wat  Tyler  and  a  socialist  priest  of  Kent,  named  John 
Balle.  They  marched  on  London,  sacked  the  Tower  and 
the  Savoy  palace,  and  murdered  an  archbishop;  it  seemed 
for  a  time  as  if  the  throne  and  the  whole  social  order  were 
about  to  be  overturned. 


John  Wyclif  53 

The  Lollard  Movement. — During  this  time  of  social  dis- 
tress, John  Wyclif  planned  and  carried  out  a  great  practical 
movement,  known  as  the  Lollard  movement,  for  combat- 
ting the  corruptions  of  the  Church,  and  arousing  the  common 
people  to  a  more  vital  religious  life.  He  sent  out  simple 
devoted  men  to  preach  the  gospel  in  the  native  tongue, 
and  to  bring  home  to  their  hearers  the  living  truths  of  relig- 
ion. These  "poor  priests,"  dressed  in  coarse  russet  robes 
and  carrying  staves,  travelled  through  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  land,  as  Wesley's  preachers  travelled  four  centuries 
later,  calling  men  back  to  the  simple  faith  of  apostolic  times. 
Wyclif  and  his  Lollard  priests  began  the  great  Protestant 
appeal  from  the  dogmas  of  the  Church  to  the  Bible,  which 
culminated,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  in  Luther  and  the 
Reformation. 

Wyclif's  Bible. — In  order  to  make  this  appeal  effective 
with  the  masses,  Wyclif  undertook  to  translate  the  whole 
of  the  Bible  into  English.  Up  to  Wyclif's  time  the  Bible  had 
not  been  translated.  The  Saxon  scholar,  Bede,  had  done 
the  gospel  of  St.  John  into  the  dialect  of  Northumbria,  and 
Aelfric  had  made  a  version  of  some  parts  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment in  the  dialect  of  Wessex ;  but  the  men  of  the  fourteenth 
century  could  understand  Saxon  no  more  than  we  can  to- 
day. The  Bible  was  in  the  hands  of  the  priests,  in  the 
Latin  form  known  as  the  Vulgate.  Wyclif  determined  to 
translate  it  into  simple  English,  and  to  put  it  within  reach 
of  the  humblest  reader.  With  the  assistance  of  Nicholas 
of  Hereford,  he  completed  his  great  task  before  his  death 
in  1384.  It  is  the  first  great  monument  of  prose  style  in 
English.  By  virtue  of  it,  and  of  the  sermons  and  tracts 
which  he  wrote  in  homely  vigorous  speech  for  the  under- 
standing of  simple  people,  Wyclif  earned  the  title  of  "father 
of  English  prose."  He  may  with  equal  justice  be  called  the 
father  of  the  English  Reformation ;  for  the  seed  he  sowed  did 
not  perish.  His  corpse  was  burned  by  the  Church,  we  are 
told,  and  his  ashes  thrown  into  a  brook  near  his  parsonage  of 
Lutterworth,  in  order  that  no  trace  might  remain  of  the '  arch- 
heretic";  but,  says  a  pious  old  historian,  "this  brook  did 
convey  his  ashes  into  the  Avon,  Avon  into  Severn,  Severn  into 


54  Middle  English  Period 

the  narrow  sea,  and  that  into  the  wide  ocean.  And  so  the 
ashes  of  Wyclif  are  the  emblem  of  his  doctrine,  which  is  now 
dispersed  all  the  world  over." 

Chaucer  Contrasted  with  Langland. — The  peasant  rebellion 
and  the  Lollard  agitation  give  us  glimpses  of  an  England 
which  Chaucer,  in  spite  of  the  many-sidedness  of  his  work, 
did  not  reveal.  Chaucer  wrote  for  the  court  and  the  cultivated 
classes,  to  whom  the  sufferings  of  the  poor  were  either  un- 
known, or  accepted  as  a  part  of  the  natural  order  of  things. 
In  his  graceful  worldliness,  his  delight  in  the  bright  pagean- 
try of  life,  he  shows  the  Norman-French  strain,  with  its  large 
infusion  of  Celtic  blood;  the  other  half  of  the  English  na- 
ture, its  mystical,  sombre,  spiritually  earnest  side,  found 
expression  in  William  Langland,  author  of  the  Book  Concern- 
ing Piers  the  Plowman.  He  proceeds  from  the  pure  Ger- 
manic strain  in  the  nation,  and  is  the  representative  of 
those  moral  and  spiritual  traits  which  afterward  came  to  be 
known  as  Puritan. 

V.   LANGLAND   AND  THE   VISION   OF   PLERS   PLOWMAN 

Langland's  Life  and  Character. — William  Langland  was 
born  at  Colesbury  Mortimer,  near  Malvern  in  Worcestershire, 
not  far  from  the  Welsh  border.  He  tells  us  that  "his  father 
and  friends"  put  him  to  school,  and  made  a  clerk  of  him. 
For  a  time  he  "roamed  about  robed  in  russet,"  in  the  man- 
ner of  a  mendicant,  driven  by  vague  thoughts  and  desires. 
Going  up  to  London,  he  got  him  a  "chantry  for  souls,"  one 
of  the  minor  offices  of  the  mediaeval  Church,  his  duty  being 
to  chant  at  stated  intervals  for  the  release  from  purgatory 
of  the  soul  of  some  dead  man,  who  had  left  a  bequest  for 
that  purpose.  His  poverty  was  extreme.  With  his  wife  Kitte 
and  his  daughter  Calote,  he  lived  in  Cornhill,  where  his 
tall,  gaunt  figure,  clothed  in  a  sombre  priestly  cloak,  got 
him  the  nickname  of  "Long  Will."  As  he  stalked  through 
the  crowded  Strand,  he  would  refuse  to  bow  to  fine  lords 
and  ladies  clad  in  furs  and  silver,  and  to  cry  "  God  save  you, 
sir!"  to  sergeants  of  the  law.  His  conduct  toward  the  rich 
and  great,  so  unusual  in  that  day,  got  him  the  name  of  an 


William  Langland  55 

eccentric  person,  somewhat  touched  in  the  brain.  Hints  of 
mental  struggles  verging  upon  insanity  occur  in  his  con- 
fessions. "My  wit  waxed  and  waned,"  he  says,  "until  I 
was  a  fool."  His  writings  reveal  a  half- ferocious  sincerity,  a 
flaming  indignation  against  the  pretences  and  base  compla- 
cencies of  the  world,  combined  with  the  inward  exaltation 
of  the  visionary.  The  last  trace  we  get  of  him  is  in  Bristol, 
where,  in  1399,  he  was  writing  "Richard  the  Redeless,"  a 
poem  of  protest  and  warning  addressed  to  King  Richard  II. 
Apparently,  news  reached  him  of  the  assassination  of  the  king 
and  of  the  usurpation  of  the  throne  by  Henry  IV.,  and  he  threw 
the  poem  by  unfinished.     The.  date  of  his  death  is  unknown. 

"  The  Book  of  Piers  the  Plowman." — Langland's  life-work 
was  his  great  poem,  "The  Vision  of  William  Concerning  Piers 
the  Plowman."  He  worked  upon  it  for  at  least  thirty  years, 
constantly  rewriting  and  expanding  it.  In  these  rewritings 
and  recastings  it  grew  from  eight  cantos  to  twenty-three ;  and 
the  conception  of  the  chief  character,  "  Piers  the  Plowman," 
grew  constantly  more  exalted.  At  first  he  is  merely  an  honest, 
simple-hearted  farmer,  full  of  Christian  helpfulness  and  prac- 
tical justice.  But  in  the  later  versions  he  is  raised  and  glori- 
fied, and  is  conceived  of  mystically  as  Jesus  Christ,  incarnate 
in  the  form  of  a  lowly  tiller  of  the  fields. 

On  a  May  morning,  on  Malvern  Hills,  the  poet,  "weary 
forwandered,"  lies  down  to  rest,  and  dreams.  Beneath  him, 
in  the  great  plain,  he  sees  gathered  together  a  vast  crowd  of 
people,  representing  the  manifold  life  of  the  world.  All  are 
busy,  but  their  work  is,  with  few  exceptions,  evil  or  futile. 
Some  are  sowing  or  ploughing,  but  only  that  idlers  may  waste 
the  fruit  of  their  toil.  Pilgrims  are  journeying  to  holy  shrines, 
that  they  may  "lie  all  their  lives  after;"  minstrels  and  ribald 
story-tellers  are  plying  their  trade ;  friars  and  pardoners  are 
abusing  their  priestly  station  for  their  own  low  ends.  Law- 
sergeants,  tradesmen,  and  taverners  mix  with  the  changing 
crowd,  and  contribute  each  his  characteristic  abuse.  The 
genius  of  the  crowd,  the  incarnation  of  the  worldly  spirit,  is 
Lady  Meed  (Bribery),  a  wonderful  allegorical  figure,  symbol 
of  that  dishonesty  which  Langland  everywhere  saw  poisoning 
the  springs  of  social  and  political  life. 


56  Middle  English  Period 

Next  we  are  shown  the  "Seven  Deadly  Sins,"  and  other 
allegorical  figures,  painted  with  so  much  realism,  that  they 
seem  like  living  beings,  with  whom,  indeed,  they  mingle  on 
equal  terms.  Among  them  is  Piers,  and  to  him  they  appeal 
to  show  them  the  way  to  Truth,  i.e.,  to  God  the  Father.  Piers 
knows  Truth  well,  but  refuses  to  go  until  he  has  ploughed  his 
half-acre.  All  who  come  asking  for  guidance  he  sets  to  work. 
Many  shirk  their  tasks,  but  are  driven  back  by  Hunger.  This 
part  of  the  poem  preaches,  as  preparatory  to  personal  salva- 
tion, the  Gospel  of  Work — the  same  gospel  which  Carlyle, 
who  has  many  points  of  resemblance  to  Langland,  was  to 
preach  five  centuries  afterward. 

The  Vision  reaches  its  highest  point  of  imagination  in  the 
account  of  Piers's  triumph  over  Death  and  Hell.  He  comes 
riding  barefoot  on  an  ass,  without  spurs  or  spear,  to  his  "joust 
in  Jerusalem."  With  the  news  of  his  triumph  and  resurrec- 
tion, the  dreamer  awakes  in  ecstasy,  the  joyous  Easter  bells 
pealing  in  his  ears. 

Spirit  of  Langland's  Poem. — The  name  of  Piers  Plowman 
was  used  as  a  rallying  cry  in  the  peasant  uprising ;  and  the 
poem  probably  had  much  to  do  with  the  arousing  of  Wyclif 's 
zeal  as  a  reformer.  Langland's  sense  of  the  equality  of  all 
men  before  God,  his  hatred  of  social  falsities  and  hypocrisies, 
his  belief  in  the  dignity  of  labor,  give  a  modern  tone  to  his 
poem,  in  spite  of  his  archaic  metrical  form,  and  its  mediaeval 
machinery  of  abstract  figures.  His  deep  religious  sense 
and  the  grandeur  of  his  mystical  imaginings  are  neither 
ancient  nor  modern,  but  of  all  time. 

VI-   FROM   CHAUCER  TO   THE   RENAISSANCE 

The  Chaucerian  Imitators:  Lydgate  and  Occleve. — After 
the  death  of  Chaucer  and  Langland,  literature  declined. 
Poets,  in  the  dearth  of  original  inspiration,  kept  turning 
back  to  Chaucer,  as  to  their  "fader  dere  and  maister  rever- 
ent," and  imitating  him  both  in  matter  and  manner.  One 
of  these  disciples  was  John  Lydgate,  a  monk  of  Bury  St. 
Edmunds  (i37o?-i45i  ?).  Another,  Thomas  Occleve  or 
Hoccleve  (i37o?-i45o?)  had  the  benefit  of  Chaucer's  per- 


James  of  Scotland  57 

sonal  acquaintance  and  instruction,  loved  and  mourned  him 
deeply,  and  preserved,  in  the  manuscript  of  his  "Governail 
of  Princes"  (written  for  the  Prince  of  Wales,  afterward 
Henry  V.),  the  portrait  of  Chaucer  as  a  gray-haired  old 
man,  hooded  and  gowned. 

James  of  Scotland:  "The  King's  Quair.,, — Another  poet 
who  continued  the  master's  tradition  is  the  young  Stuart 
prince,  afterward  James  I.  of  Scotland,  who  was  captured  by 
English  sailors  in  1405,  and  spent  the  next. nineteen  years  in 
England  as  a  prisoner,  in  the  Tower  of  London,  Windsor 
Castle,  and  other  strongholds.  At  the  time  of  his  capture  he 
was  a  child  of  eleven.  As  he  grew  up  in  solitude,  he  turned 
for  diversion  to  poetry  and  music.  One  day,  from  the  windows 
of  Windsor  Castle,  he  saw  a  beautiful  young  girl  walking  in 
the  garden  below,  as  Palamon  saw  the  fair  Emilie  in  the 
"Knight's  Tale."  The  story  of  his  love  for  Jane  Beaufort 
and  its  happy  outcome,  the  young  prince  told  with  tender- 
ness and  fancy  in  The  King's  Quair  (i.e.,  The  King's  Little 
Book).  The  King's  Quair  is,  with  all  its  artificiality  of 
manner,  a  poem  which  can  still  be  read  with  delight  by 
reason  of  its  fresh  feeling ;  and  our  pleasure  in  it  is  increased 
by  the  modesty  of  the  royal  poet,  who  speaks  of  it  as  his 
"litel  boke,  nakit  (naked)  of  eloquence." 

Popular  Literature:  Ballads  and  Miracle  Plays. — WTiile 
the  poetry  of  the  cultivated  classes  languished,  the  poetry 
of  the  people,  not  yet  written  down,  but  passing  from  mouth 
to  mouth  and  generation  to  generation  in  the  form  of  ballads, 
took  on  a  new  life.  It  was  probably  during  the  course  of  the 
fifteenth  century  that  a  great  number  of  those  ballads  arose, 
which  mirror  faithfully  the  life  of  the  people,  and  which  re- 
main to-day  as  fresh  and  moving  in  their  simple  beauty, 
as  poignant  in  their  pathos,  and  as  heart-stirring  in  their 
rude  power,  as  when  they  were  first  sung.  "  Chevy  Chase," 
"Sir  Patrick  Spens,"  "The  Nut-Brown  Maid,"  "Young 
Waters,"  "Edward,  Edward,"  "The  Wife  of  Usher's  Well," 
"  Johnnie  Armstrong,"  "Lord  Thomas  and  Fair  Annet,"  and 
other  poems  of  the  great  ballad-making  time,  are  among  the 
most  precious  possessions  of  our  literature;  and  they  will 
continue  to  be  more  precious  the  further  the  race  removes 


58  Middle  English  Period 

itself  from  the  primitive  conditions  of  life  under  which  they 
arose.  The  fifteenth  century  also  marks  the  growth  of 
another  form  of  literature,  the  miracle  play,  which  sprang 
almost  as  directly  from  the  life  of  the  common  people  as 
did  the  ballads.* 

Fifteenth  Century  Prose :  Sir  Thomas  Malory. — In  prose 
the  fifteenth  century  produced  one  work  which  has  much 
of  the  elevation  and  splendor  of  great  poetry,  the  Morte 
D' Arthur  of  Sir  Thomas  Malory.  Malory  was  a  knight, 
a  gentleman  of  an  ancient  house,  with  its  seat  at  Newbold 
Revell,  Warwickshire.  As  a  young  man  he  served  in  France, 
in  the  military  retinue  of  Richard  Beauchamp,  Earl  of  War- 
wick, a  warrior  in  whom  lived  again  the  knightly  ideal  of  a 
former  age,  and  who  was  known  by  the  romantic  title  of 
"Father  of  Courtesy."  Such  a  lineage  and  training  fitted 
Malory  peculiarly  for  his  task  of  combining  in  a  great  prose- 
poem  the  legends  of  King  Arthur  and  the  Round  Table,  which 
he  gathered  from  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  (see  Chap.  Ill) 
and  the  French  trouveres.  By  good  fortune  he  was  master 
of  a  simple,  flowing  English  style,  very  flexible  and  musical. 
The  only  example  which  he  had  for  such  a  use  as  he  made 
of  the  new  English  prose,  was  in  the  famous  Travels  of  Sir 
John  Mandeville,  compiled  in  French  by  Jean  de  Bour- 
gogne,  and  translated  into  English  late  in  the  fourteenth 
century.  The  translator  of  these  fictitious  "Travels"  is 
unknown,  but  whoever  he  was,  he  threw  his  marvellous  tales 
of  giant  sheep,  human  beings  with  dogs'  faces,  "anthropa- 
phagi,  and  men  whose  heads  do  grow  beneath  their  should- 
ers," into  a  simple,  lucid  prose,  which,  while  lacking  the 
terseness  and  energy  of  Wyclif's  popular  sermons,  was  a 
good  instrument  for  the  everyday-work  of  literature.  This 
instrument  Malory  took  up;  but  in  response  to  the  supe- 
rior dignity  and  beauty  of  his  subject,  he  raised  it  to  a  higher 
power.  The  Morte  D'Arthur  was  finished  in  1467,  but  was 
not  printed  until  1485,  when  Caxton,  the  first  English  prin- 
ter, published  it  with  an  interesting  preface  from  his  own 
hand. 

*  We  shall  study  the  Miracle  Play  later,  when  we  come  to  discuss  the 
beginnings  of  the  regular  drama. 


Review  Outline  59 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— Make  a  summary  of  the  chief  public  events 
of  Chaucer's  time.  Give  the  leading  events  of  Chaucer's  life.  Find 
as  many  points  of  connection  as  possible  between  the  two.  Describe 
the  state  of  Italy  at  the  time  of  Chaucer's  visits,  and  the  effect  upon 
the  poet  of  what  he  saw  there.  England  as  a  whole  did  not  feel  the 
influence  of  the  Italian  Renaissance  until  the  sixteenth  century,  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  VII.;  but  Chaucer  was  a  man  of  the  Renaissance,  in  his 
gaiety,  his  humanity,  his  interest  in  what  was  known  of  the  literature 
of  classic  times,  in  his  delight  in  the  humor  and  picturesqueness  of 
social  life.  What  evidences  do  you  find  of  these  traits  in  what  is  here 
told  of  his  life  and  work  ?  What  circumstances  of  Chaucer's  life  were 
calculated  to  give  him  the  wide  knowledge  of  men  shown  in  the 
"  Canterbury  Tales  "  ?  Bring  together  as  many  hints  as  you  can  find 
in  the  text  (or  elsewhere)  concerning  Chaucer's  personal  appearance; 
his  habits;  his  character  and  tastes.  Supplement  this  with  a  study 
of  the  Occleve  portrait  here  reproduced.  Note  the  chief  works  be- 
longing to  each  of  his  three  literary  periods.  What  special  aspect  of 
his  genius  comes  out  for  the  first  time  in  "Troilus  and  Cressida  "? 
Make  clear  to  yourself  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  realism "  here 
applied  to  Chaucer's  treatment  of  the  Troilus  story.  What  special 
aspect  of  Chaucer  as  a  poet  and  as  a  man  does  the  prologue  to  the 
"  Legend  of  Good  Women  "  illustrate  ?  This  prologue  suggested  Ten- 
nyson's "  Legend  of  Fair  Women  ":  if  possible,  read  the  two  together, 
and  contrast  them. 

In  what  direction  did  Chaucer's  genius  develop  during  his  later  life? 
Note  some  reasons  for  this  development  in  Chaucer's  own  life  and  in 
the  life  of  the  nation.  Describe  the  plan  of  the  "  Canterbury  Tales." 
A  harmonious  relation  exists  throughout  the  "  Canterbury  Tales  "  be- 
tween story  and  story-teller:  point  out  as  many  instances  of  this  as 
you  can  find  in  what  is  here  told  of  the  Pilgrims  on  the  road.  Note 
the  means  which  Chaucer  takes  to  keep  the  company  vividly  before 
our  eyes  while  they  are  telling  their  stories.  What  sly  means  does  the 
poet  take  to  ridicule  the  metrical  romances  of  his  day?  What  can  you 
gather  from  this  episode  concerning  the  state  of  the  metrical  romance — 
once  so  dignified  and  entertaining  a  form  of  literature— at  the  end  of 
the  fourteenth  century?  What  is  here  said  of  Chaucer's  prose  as  con- 
trasted with  his  verse  ?  Note  in  this  connection  that  nearly  all  the 
literature  we  have  reviewed  up  to  this  point  has  been  poetic.  Can 
you  see  any  reasons  why  poetry  should  develop  earlier  than  prose  ? 


60  Middle  English  Period 

By  what  accidental  circumstance  was  the  secret  of  Chaucer's  melody 
and  careful  verse-structure  lost  to  succeeding  generations,  and  only 
recently  found  again  ? 

State  the  social  and  political  conditions  which  brought  on  the  up- 
rising known  as  Tyler's  rebellion.  What  were  the  motives  which 
prompted  Wyclif  to  originate  the  Lollard  movement?  (Illustrate  your 
answer  from  what  Chaucer  reveals  of  the  worldliness  of  the  church  at 
this  time,  in  the  Prologue  to  the  "  Canterbury  Tales,"  and  study  the 
Parson  as  a  type  of  Wyclif 's  "poor  priests.")  Wyclif  is  called  the 
"  father  of  English  prose ; "  this  is  of  course  not  to  be  understood  to 
mean  that  he  was  the  first  to  write  prose  which  can  be  understood  by 
modern  readers,  but  that  his  prose  style  was  the  first  to  have  a  large 
and  lasting  influence.  By  what  works  has  he  gained  the  title?  State 
in  your  own  words  why  Wyclif  deserves  to  be  called  the  "  father  of  the 
Reformation."  Contrast  Chaucer  with  his  great  contemporary  Lang- 
land,  in  character,  and  in  the  kind  of  themes  they  each  chose  to  write 
about.  What  is  the  source  of  our  knowledge  concerning  Langland's 
life?  Give  the  chief  facts  known  about  him.  Note  that  his  last  work 
treats  of  the  same  king  whose  story  Shakespeare  afterward  presented  in 
one  of  his  dramas:  which  one?  Describe  briefly  the  subject  of  "  Piers 
Plowman."  What  changes  does  the  character  of  Piers  the  Plowman 
undergo  in  the  course  of  the  poem?  In  what  respects  is  Langland's 
book  mediaeval,  and  in  what  respects  modern? 

How  and  by  whom  was  Chaucer's  portrait  preserved  to  us?  Tell 
the  story  of  "  The  King's  Quair."  How  was  lyric  poetry  nourished 
and  kept  alive  during  the  fifteenth  century,  when,  because  of  dis- 
turbed political  conditions,  it  was  apparently  neglected  among  the 
higher  classes?  (The  simple  poetry  of  this  period  was  destined  to 
have  a  great  influence  on  the  later  history  of  English  poetry.  Keep 
it  well  in  mind  and  be  prepared  to  recognize  this  influence.)  If  possi- 
ble read  the  ballads  named  in  the  text;  rephrase  in  your  own  language 
one  or  two  of  them,  as  "  Sir  Patrick  Spens,"  the  "  Nut-Brown  Maid," 
etc.;  then  read  the  originals  again,  noting  how  much  is  lost  by  the 
substitution  of  modern  phrases  for  the  picturesque  old  ones,  and  by  the 
substitution  of  prose  for  the  rude  but  vigorous  ballad  rhythms.  What 
is  the  chief  prose  work  of  the  fifteenth  century?  What  modern  poet 
has  used  the  same  material  for  an  epic  poem  ? 


Reading  Guide  61 

READING  GUIDE.— Students  should  read  at  least  the  prologue 
to  the  "Canterbury  Tales,"  and  "The  Knight's  Tale."  Many  school 
editions  exist;  two  of  the  most  satisfactory  are  by  F.  J.  Mather,  Jr. 
(Houghton,  Mifflin),  and  by  Morris  &  Skeat  (Clarendon  Press),  both  of 
which  contain  also  "The  Nun's  Priest's  Tale."  The  class  work  can 
be  much  enlivened  by  calling  for  volunteers  to  read  and  report  to  the 
class  upon  other  poems,  as  "The  Nun's  Priest's  Tale,"  "The  Clerk's 
Tale,"  "The  Parlement  of  Fowls,"  and  the  prologue  to  the  "Legend 
of  Good  Women."  G.  L.  Kittridge's  "Selections  from  the  Canterbury 
Tales,"  soon  to  be  published  (Ginn)  will  prove  excellent  for  supple- 
mentary work.  The  best  complete  single-volume  edition  of  Chaucer 
is  "The  Student's  Chaucer,"  edited  by  W.  W.  Skeat  (Clarendon  Press). 

Good  editions  of  the  early  ballads  are  "The  Ballad  Book,"  edited 
by  W.  Allingham,  in  the  Golden  Treasury  series,  and  "Old  English 
Ballads,"  by  W.  D.  Armes,  in  Macmillan's  Pocket  Series.  An  ex- 
cellent brief  selection  is  given  in  the  inexpensive  series  of  Maynard's 
English  Classics.  For  more  advanced  study  consult  F.  B.  Gum- 
mere's  "Old  English  Ballads"  (Ginn),  or  Miss  Child's  "English  and 
Scottish  Popular  Ballads  "  (Houghton,  Mifflin). 

"The  Travels  of  Sir  John  Mandeville  "  is  included  in  Cassell's  Na- 
tional Library.  Selections  from  Mandeville,  and  from  Wyclif's  Bible, 
are  given  in  Number  107  of  Maynard's  English  Classics.  Malory's 
"Morte  D'Arthur,"  selected  portions,  is  edited  by  E.  Rhys  in  the  Came- 
lot  Series. 

Biography  and  Criticism. — Lowell's  delightful  appreciation  of  Chau- 
cer in  "My  Study  Windows,"  also  in  the  fourth  volume  of  his  collected 
works  (Houghton,  Mifflin),  should,  if  possible,  be  put  before  the  class. 
A.  W.  Ward's  life  of  Chaucer,  in  the  English  Men  of  Letters  series,  may 
with  profit  be  made  the  basis  of  additional  reports  to  the  class,  the 
work  being  distributed  among  several  students. 


62 


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CHAPTER  V 
THE   RENAISSANCE 

I.    ENGLAND   IN  THE   FIFTEENTH   CENTURY 

The  century  following  the  death  of  Chaucer  was  for  Eng- 
land a  time  of  political  and  social  disturbance.  The  deposi- 
tion of  Richard  II.  in  1399  left  the  succession  to  the  throne 
open  to  dispute  among  the  other  descendants  of  Edward  III. 
Henry  IV.,  who  took  the  throne  from  Richard,  was  a  strong 
ruler ;  and  his  son  Henry  V.  was  a  wonderful  soldier  who  won 
the  famous  victory  over  the  French  at  Agincourt  (1415)  and 
captured  Paris,  where  he  was  crowned  King  of  France.  His 
early  death  left  the  throne  to  his  baby  son,  Henry  VI.,  who 
grew  up  to  be  one  of  the  weakest  of  English  kings.  His  title 
to  the  throne  was  assailed  by  a  grandson  of  Edward  III., 
Richard,  Duke  of  York,  and  thus  began  the  long  civil  war 
known  as  the  War  of  the  Roses,  between  the  supporters  of 
the  two  rival  families  of  Lancaster  and  York.  Not  until  1485, 
when  the  last  of  the  York  kings,  Richard  III.  (who  had 
gamed  the  throne  by  the  murder  of  his  two  little  nephews), 
was  defeated  at  Bosworth  by  Henry  Tudor,  and  the  con- 
queror took  the  throne  as  Henry  VII.,  was  England  finally 
at  peace. 

During  the  weak  rule  of  Henry  VI.,  when  England  was 
steadily  being  defeated  by  the  French,  and  during  the  dis- 
turbed reigns  which  followed,  the  wealth  which  the  country 
had  gained  Under  the  Edwards  was  wasted.  The  ruin  of 
many  of  the  great  feudal  families  by  the  civil  war  deprived 
literature  of  their  support  and  patronage.  The  most  in- 
teresting literary  products  of  this  period  are  to  be  found  in 
the  narrative  songs  or  ballads  composed  and  sung  for  the 
common  people,  and  in  the  early  popular  religious  dramas. 
Among  the  commons,  also,  the  religious  revival  which  Wyclif 

64 


Renaissance  in  Italy  ,65 

had  begun,  continued,  though  the  Lollards,  as  his  followers 
were  called,  were  persecuted  by  successive  sovereigns  of  both 
houses.  This  popular  revival  prepared  the  way  for  the 
English  Reformation,  which  we  shall  treat  of  shortly.  At 
the  same  time  the  intellectual  movement  of  the  modern 
world,  known  as  the  Renaissance,  was  having  its  effect  in 
England,  though  its  full  influence  did  not  appear  until  after 
the  country  had  settled  down  to  peaceful  pursuits  under  the 
strong  rule  of  the  Tudor  kings. 

II.     THE   RENAISSANCE   AND   THE   REFORMATION 

The  Renaissance  Defined. — The  Renaissance,  or  Rebirth, 
is  the  name  given  to  the  great  awakening  which  marks  the 
end  of  the  Middle  Age.  Its  chief  cause  was  the  partial 
recovery  of  classical  literature,  art,  and  civilization,  and 
of  the  idea  therein  expressed  of  man's  life  as  belonging  to 
himself,  and  of  the  world  as  a  place  for  his  development 
and  satisfaction.  This  recognition  of  individual  freedom,  as 
opposed  to  the  rigid  system  of  living  and  thinking  prescribed 
by  feudalism  and  the  church,  may  properly  be  called  a  re- 
birth of  the  human  spirit.  Signs  of  the  change  are  found 
in  every  direction,  but  they  all  point  to  the  development  of 
man's  personal  energy,  accompanied  by  an  intense  interest  in 
the  present  world.  Instead  of  renouncing  the  world  as  a 
temptation,  at  the  command  of  the  church,  men  began  to 
devote  themselves  to  gaining  mastery  over  it  through  wealth 
and  political  power,  to  discovering  its  secrets  by  exploration 
and  scientific  experiment,  to  setting  forth  its  pleasures  and 
adding  to  them  by  art  and  poetry. 

The  Renaissance  in  Italy. — Already  in  the  time  of  Chaucer 
the  spirit  of  the  Renaissance  had  taken  possession  of  Italy. 
The  division  of  that  country  into  small  states  multiplied  the 
opportunities  of  the  individual  to  gain  personal  distinction 
in  government  or  in  war.  Its  situation  on  the  commercial 
highway  between  the  East  and  the  West  was  favorable  to  the 
acquisition  of  wealth.  The  disposition  of  the  Italians,  and 
their  opportunities,  led  them  naturally  toward  the  enjoyment 
of  the  world  about  them.    Accordingly,  the  despots  and  the 


66 .  The  Renaissance 

merchant  princes,  when  they  had  gained  their  power  or 
wealth,  made  their  courts  and  palaces  centres  of  magnificent 
and  cultivated  life,  the  resort  of  artists  and  learned  men. 
The  fact  that  Italy  possessed  the  relics  of  classical  civiliza- 
tion,— buildings,  statues,  manuscripts, — constantly  reminded 
its  inhabitants  of  the  ideals  of  the  ancient  Romans,  and 
furnished  examples,  in  all  the  arts,  of  perfection  of  form 
on  which  the  new  taste  for  beautiful  things  was  nourished. 
The  capture  of  Constantinople  by  the  Turks  in  1453  drove 
many  Greeks  to  seek  shelter  in  Italy.  They  brought  with 
them  a  knowledge  of  the  language  and  literature  of  Greece, 
and  thenceforth  more  than  ever  the  Italian  cities  became 
centres  for  the  study  of  the  classics,  and  for  the  spread  of 
the  classical  spirit  of  interest  in  human  life  and  in  all  its  op- 
portunities— a  spirit  which  gave  to  this  revival  of  learning 
the  name  Humanism. 

From  Italy  the  influence  of  Humanism  spread  to  other 
nations,  which  in  their  turn  contributed  elements  to  the  new 
world  which  was  being  created.  Spain  and  Portugal,  by 
sending  Columbus  to  America  and  Vasco  da  Gama  to  India, 
made  the  world  a  larger  place  for  men  to  act  in.  The  Ger- 
mans, in  the  invention  of  printing,  supplied  the  means  by 
which  the  new  knowledge  of  all  kinds  could  be  diffused 
widely  among  men.  And  Germany,  as  the  home  of  Coper- 
nicus, gave  birth  to  the  astronomical  discoveries  which 
taught  men  that  the  earth,  instead  of  being  the  centre  of 
the  universe,  was  but  one  element  in  a  single  solar  system. 

Signs  of  Renaissance  in  England. — In  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, England,  the  home  of  Chaucer  and  Wyclif,  seemed  quite 
prepared  to  take  part  in  this  forward  movement  of  the  modern 
world.  During  the  fifteenth  century  something  of  the  early 
impulse  was  lost;  but  there  were  abundant  signs  that  the 
promise  of  new  life  was  not  dead.  For  one  thing,  the  decline 
of  the  old  noble  families,  which  were  cut  off  by  the  civil  war, 
left  an  opening  for  "new  men,"  as  they  were  called,  to  come 
to  the  front.  The  passing  away  of  feudalism  made  the 
merchant  class  of  more  importance,  and  tended  to  replace 
the  aristocracy  of  birth  by  that  of  wealth.  Thus  in  England 
as  in  Italy  we  have  one  essential  condition  of  the  Renais- 


The  Court  of  Henry  VIII  67 

sance,  the  wider  opportunity  for  individual  development. 
The  example  of  foreign  countries  was  not  without  influence. 
In  1476  Caxton  set  up  the  first  printing  press  in  London. 
Before  this  date  one  of  the  Oxford  colleges  had  engaged 
an  Italian  teacher  of  Greek,  and  by  the  close  of  the  century 
Englishmen  had  begun  to  go  freely  to  Italy  to  study  with 
the  Italian  humanists.  They  returned  to  make  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  homes  of  classical  scholarship,  and  especially  of 
the  "new  learning,"  as  Greek  studies  were  called.  This  re- 
vival of  learning  had,  in  England  as  in  Italy,  a  marked  effect 
upon  literature.  It  turned  men's  minds  strongly  toward  the 
discussion  of  theories  of  culture  and  education,  and  the  re- 
lation of  the  individual  to  society.  Further,  it  set  models 
for  imitation,  and  standards  of  literary  excellence.  It  is 
true,  this  tendency  in  time  became  an  impediment  to  native 
English  literature,  and  we  find  in  poetry  and  the  drama 
that  writers  who  wished  to  express  themselves  in  their  own 
way  had  to  struggle  to  free  themselves  from  forms  prescribed 
by  the  authority  of  the  Greeks  and  the  Latins.  On  the 
whole,  however,  the  revival  of  learning  furnished  the  youth- 
ful literature  of  England  with  a  very  necessary  schooling  and 
discipline. 

The  Court  of  Henry  VIII. — The  centre  of  Renaissance 
literature  in  England,  however,  was  not  the  university,  but 
the  royal  court,  especially  after  the  accession  of  Henry  VIII. 
in  1509.  The  new  king  was  ambitious  to  take  a  leading  part 
in  the  affairs  of  Europe,  and  his  diplomacy,  by  bringing  Eng- 
land into  the  family  of  continental  nations,  opened  many 
channels  for  foreign  influence,  which  soon  manifested  itself 
in  dress,  building,  art,  and  letters.  Naturally  Italy,  as  the 
most  advanced  country  of  Europe,  gave  most  to  this  new 
civilization  of  England.  The  king,  indeed,  in  his  own 
character  resembled  strongly  some  of  the  Italian  princes  of 
the  time,  who  mingled  the  enlightenment  of  the  statesman 
with  the  suspicious  cruelty  of  the  despot.  In  setting  aside  the 
relics  of  feudalism  and  allowing  men  of  low  birth  to  rise  to 
the  highest  distinction  by  personal  service  of  the  sovereign, 
he  set  a  premium  upon  individual  character  and  ability. 
The  men  who  played  for  power  in  his  service  had  need  of  skill 


68  The  Renaissance 

in  a  game  where  the  stakes  were  the  highest,  and  defeat  fataL 
Moreover,  Henry  resembled  the  typical  sovereigns  of  the 
Renaissance  in  his  fondness  for  art,  learning,  and  magnificent 
display.  He  was  himself  a  musician,  a  lover  of  architecture, 
and  the  patron  of  painters,  poets,  and  learned  men. 

Sir  Thomas  More. — The  most  gracious  figure  of  the  court 
of  Henry  is  that  of  Sir  Thomas  More  (1470 -1535).  In  his 
early  days  More  was  a  student  of  the  new  learning  at  Oxford, 
and  though  later  thrown  into  active  life  as  member  of  Parlia- 
ment and  minister  of  the  king,  he  never  lost  interest  in  the  in- 
tellectual movement  of  the  time.  He  was  captivated  by  the 
dignified  conception  of  human  character  which  appeared  in 
the  more  serious  men  of  the  Italian  Renaissance;  and  in  the 
accounts  of  his  own  life,  notably  that  by  his  son-in-law, 
William  Roper,  we  catch  something  of  the  spirit  of  a  man 
who  sought  not  only  righteousness  but  beauty  of  life — who 
made  living  a  fine  art.  In  his  most  famous  work,  Utopia 
(1515-1516),  More  tried  to  show  how  this  ideal  might  be 
realized  for  all  men,  under  a  properly  organized  social  system. 
The  book  is  written  as  the  narrative  of  a  sailor,  returned  to 
England  after  a  voyage  to  a  mysterious  island,  Utopia,  in 
which  the  inhabitants  have  learned  to  live  by  reason.  The 
commonwealth  of  Utopia  is  a  form  of  what  we  should  call 
socialism.  By  simplicity  of  life,  and  the  equal  sharing  of 
its  burdens,  the  Utopians  have  reduced  the  necessary  labor 
of  each  person  to  a  few  hours  a  day.  They  have  no  personal 
wealth,  and  hence  are  free  from  the  evil  and  crime  which 
spring  from  its  possession.  The  adjective  "  Utopian  "  has 
been  used  ever  since  More's  time  to  denote  a  state  of  so- 
ciety desirable  but  impossible.  The  book  is  altogether  char- 
acteristic of  the  hopefulness  and  enthusiasm  of  the  early 
Renaissance,  when  men  dared  to  dream  of  the  perfection  of 
human  beings  in  a  perfect  state. 

The  New  Poetry. — In  the  later  years  of  Henry  VIII.,  thft 
refinement  of  court  life  developed  the  practice  among  the 
courtiers  of  addressing  the  sovereign,  the  ladies  of  the  court, 
or  each  other,  in  verse.  Among  the  courtly  poets  of  the  time 
are  two  who,  for  their  reform  of  English  metrical  structure 
by  the  use  of  models  imported  from  Italy,  may  be  called 


The  Earl  of  Surrey  69 

the  founders  of  modern  English  poetry — Sir  Thomas  Wyatt 
(i  503-1 542),  and  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey  (15 17-1547). 

Sir  Thomas  Wyatt. — The  career  of  Wyatt  illustrates  par- 
ticularly the  value  to  English  literature  of  the  close  connection 
with  foreign  countries,  which  Henry  VIII.'s  ambition  to  take 
part  in  European  affairs  did  much  to  restore.  Wyatt  was 
frequently  abroad  on  diplomatic  missions;  like  Chaucer  he 
visited  Italy,  and  also  Spain  and  France.  His  poems  are,  for 
the  most  part,  translations  and  imitations  of  Italian  poetry, 
especially  of  Petrarch's  sonnets  in  praise  of  Laura.  With 
Petrarch's  imitators  the  sonnet  had  become  a  mere  literary 
exercise,  devoted  to  the  expression  of  a  love  which  might  be 
entirely  imaginary,  or  directed  toward  an  imaginary  person. 
Wyatt's  sonnets,  therefore,  need  not  be  regarded  as  having 
strict  biographical  truth,  though  attempts  have  been  made  to 
find  in  them  the  history  of  a  personal  relation,  and  some  have 
guessed  that  they  were  inspired  by  Henry's  second  queen, 
Anne  Boleyne.  Wyatt's  effort  to  achieve  the  regularity  and 
finish  of  the  Italian  sonnet  was  not  always  successful.  Yet 
in  freer  lyrical  verse  such  poems  as  "My  Lute,  Awake,"  and 
"Forget  not  yet,"  are  eminent  examples  of  his  power. 

The  Earl  of  Surrey. — Wyatt's  companion  poet,  Surrey, 
born  in  15 17,  and  beheaded  in  1547,  is,  like  More,  notable 
for  his  personal  quality.  He  has  all  the  exuberance  of  the 
age,  a  perpetual  charm  of  youth  and  promise,  as  his  brilliant 
figure  passes  through  the  sunlight  and  shadow  of  Henry's 
court,  moving  gracefully  and  carelessly  to  the  scaffold  which 
awaited  him.  Surrey,  like  Wyatt,  rendered  his  chief  service 
to  English  literature  by  enriching  its  resources  with  foreign 
forms,  and  especially  by  his  introduction  of  blank  verse,  in 
his  translation  of  two  books  of  Virgil's  JEneid.  Blank  verse 
had  been  used  in  Italy  a  few  years  before  in  a  translation  of 
the  same  work,  from  which  experiment  Surrey  may  have  ob- 
tained the  suggestion,  but  the  happy  skill  with  which  he 
adopted  it,  and  thus  gave  to  English  poetry  its  most  pow- 
erful and  characteristic  verse  form,  is  worthy  of  all  praise. 
To  Surrey  also  is  due  the  English  form  of  the  sonnet 
which  Shakespeare  used,  consisting  of  three  quatrains  and 
a  couplet. 


70  The  Renaissance     • 

"  TottePs  Miscellany." — The  work  of  these  literary  cour- 
tiers was  intended  for  private  circulation  in  manuscript.  By 
the  middle  of  the  century,  however,  there  had  grown  up  a 
demand  on  the  part  of  the  reading  public  which  publishers 
attempted  to  supply  by  volumes  of  miscellaneous  verse.  The 
first  of  these  collections,  "Tottel's  Miscellany,"  contained 
the  poems  of  Wyatt,  Surrey,  and  several  of  their  followers. 
It  appeared  in  1557,  a  date  which  marks  the  public  begin- 
ning of  modern  English  verse. 

The  Reformation. — The  fact  that  both  Wyatt  and  Surrey, 
the  introducers  of  Renaissance  poetry,  wrote  also  religious 
verse,  emphasizes  the  fact  that  in  England  the  Renaissance 
and  the  Reformation  were  nearly  contemporary.  The  for- 
mal beginning  of  the  Reformation  in  Europe  is  dated  from 
1517,  when  Martin  Luther  nailed  to  the  door  of  the  church 
in  Wittenberg  his  attack  upon  the  power  of  the  Pope.  The 
doctrines  of  the  German  and  Swiss  reformers  spread  rapidly 
chrough  England.  When  in  1534  King  Henry  VIII.  quar- 
relled with  the  Pope,  who  refused  to  grant  him  a  divorce 
from  his  first  wife,  Catherine  of  Aragon,  he  found  the  people 
at  large  ready  to  support  him  in  his  proclamation  of  himself 
as  Head  of  the  Church,  and  later  in  his  suppression  of  the 
monasteries. 

The  Reformation  was  the  chief  political  question  in  the 
closing  years  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  indeed  through- 
out the  rest  of  the  century.  Henry  was  strong  enough  to 
hold  a  moderate  course  between  the  reformers  and  the  ad- 
herents of  the  old  faith.  After  his  death  in  1547.,  the  for- 
mer controlled  the  policy  of  the  boy-king,  Edward  VI.,  and 
pushed  their  advantage  by  persecution  and  bloodshed. 
When  the  king  died  in  1553,  they  tried  to  retain  power  by 
setting  up  as  queen  the  Lady  Jane  Grey,  but  the  mass  of  the 
nation  accepted  the  claim  of  Mary,  the  daughter  of  Henry 
VIII.  by  his  first  and  Catholic  wife.  In  her  five  years  of  rule 
she  did  her  utmost  to  restore  the  old  faith,  outdoing  the 
reformers  in  the  cruelty  of  her  persecution.  At  her  death  in 
1558,  she  was  succeeded  by  Elizabeth,  who,  though  of  the 
reformed  faith,  was  inclined  to  keep  a  middle  course  between 
the  two   religious  parties.      However,    the   movement   in 


The  Reformation  71 

Europe  known  as  the  Catholic  Reaction  was  now  in  full  prog- 
ress under  the  leadership  of  Philip  II.,  of  Spain.  His  efforts 
to  stamp  out  the  Reformation  in  France  and  the  Netherlands, 
and  his  support  of  the  claims  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  to  ithe 
crown  of  Elizabeth,  gradually  forced  England  into  open  hos- 
tility to  Spain,  which  the  queen  signalized  by  sending  troops 
to  help  the  Dutch  revolt  against  Philip,  and  by  beheading  the 
Queen  of  Scots  in  1586.  Philip's  response  to  this  challenge 
was  the  Spanish  Armada,  which  he  sent  against  England  in 
1588. 

The  Literature  of  the  Reformation. — The  Reformation  had 
a  very  important  influence  on  English  life.  Coming  at  the 
time  when  the  Renaissance  was  drawing  men  into  ardent 
love  of  the  present  world  and  stimulating  their  ambition  to 
master  it  and  to  enjoy  it,  the  Reformation  brought  home  the 
thought  of  the  other  world,  and  checked  the  spirit  of  selfish- 
ness and  self-indulgence  by  enforcing  anew  the  claim  of  re- 
ligion. This  influence  is  reflected  in  the  literature  of  the 
time,  especially  the  popular  literature.  The  Reformation  was 
to  the  common  people  what  the  revival  of  learning  was  to 
the  upper  classes :  it  set  the  most  important  topic  for  discus- 
sion, and  called  into  being  a  simple  native  English  style 
which  could  be  understood  by  all.  The  best  example  of  this 
style  is  to  be  seen  in  the  translation  of  the  Bible  by  William 
Tyndale,  of  which  the  New  Testament  appeared  in  1526. 
This  was  eagerly  circulated  by  the  reformers,  in  spite  of  the 
efforts  of  the  authorities  to  prevent  it.  Ten  years  later, 
when  the  king  himself  had  turned  against  the  Pope,  Miles 
Coverdale  was  authorized  to  revise  Tyndale's  translation  of 
the  scriptures,  and  his  version,  completed  in  1538,  was  placed 
by  royal  sanction  in  the  churches  all  over  England,  where 
the  great  volumes,  chained  to  the  pillars,  were  read  to  the 
crowds  of  unlettered  folk.  Thus  the  English  Bible  came  to 
be  the  strongest  influence  on  English  popular  prose,  for 
which  it  supplied  a  model  in  opposition  to  the  artificial 
styles  imitated  from  foreign  or  classic  literature. 

Foxe's  "  Book  of  Martyrs." — Next  to  the  Bible  the  most 
popular  work  of  the  time  was  the  Book  0}  Martyrs  (1563)  of 
John  Foxe.     This  was  a  genuine  text-book  of  the  Refor- 


72  The  Renaissance 

mation;  from  it  we  gain  those  accounts  of  the  martyrs  of 
Mary's  reign,  of  Hooper  and  Cranmer,  Latimer  and  Ridley, 
which  are  among  the  best  known  passages  of  English  history. 
In  its  plain,  literal  style  it  reflects  the  strenuous  temper  of 
the  thorough-going  reformers.  Its  stern  realism  brought 
home  to  Englishmen  the  cruel  struggle  by  which  the  new 
faith  survived,  and  its  eloquent  accounts  of  spiritual  tri- 
umph roused  the  moral  enthusiasm  of  the  nation,  and  pre- 
pared the  way  for  Puritanism. 

III.    THE   AGE   OF  ELIZABETH 

The  Spirit  of  the  Time. — The  accession  of  Elizabeth  in 
1558  changed  the  entire  aspect  of  the  nation.  Her  mod- 
erate policy  relaxed  the  religious  tension;  the  gloomy  spirit 
produced  by  the  persecutions  was  lightened;  the  force  of 
the  Renaissance  manifested  itself  more  widely,  as  the  spirit 
of  individual  freedom  and  of  eager  response  to  all  the  new 
opportunities  of  the  world.  It  was  an  age  of  romantic 
adventure,  which  led  men  into  intellectual  speculation  and 
commercial  enterprise,  which  sent  them  to  explore  the  un- 
known seas  of  the  north,  the  mysterious  rivers  and  forests 
of  the  new  world,  or  drew  them  into  the  scarcely  less  excit- 
ing life  of  London.  But  the  impulses  of  the  time  which 
made  for  personal  and  selfish  ends  were  both  directed  and 
kept  in  check  by  a  corresponding  growth  of  patriotism. 
Elizabeth's  reign  united  the  nation,  and  her  personal  presence 
gave  it  a  visible  sign  of  unity.  The  championship  of  the 
reformed  faith,  moreover,  came  to  be  regarded  by  a  large  part 
of  the  people  as  a  national  duty,  and  the  conquest  of  lands 
beyond  the  seas  as  a  national  opportunity.  When  in  course 
of  time  the  pursuit  of  these  ends  brought  England  into  open 
conflict  with  Spain,  the  country  passed  through  an  exper- 
ience as  dramatic  as  that  of  Athens  at  Marathon ;  after  a  long 
period  of  suspense  the  strain  was  relieved  by  the  wonderful 
repulse  of  the  Spanish  Armada  in  1588.  The  national  feel- 
ing, made  so  intense  by  danger  and  victory,  shines  through  the 
literature  of  the  time.  The  eager,  instinctive  patriotism  of 
the  people  found  utterance  in  the  choruses  of  Shakespeare's 


The  Age  of  Elizabeth  73 

Henry  V.  and  in  such  noble  lyrics  as  Michael  Drayton's 
"Ballad  of  Agincourt,"  the  ringing  metre  of  which  Tennyson 
used  afterward  in  "The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade." 
The  more  conscious  political  virtue,  which  touched  with 
high  purpose  the  lives  of  Sidney,  of  Essex,  and  of  Raleigh, 
is  reflected  in  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene. 

Lyly's  "  Euphues." — The  beginning  of  the  great  period  of 
Elizabethan  literature  may  be  dated  from  1579,  the  year  of 
the  publication  of  the  most  famous  prose  work  of  the  time, 
Lyly's  Euphues  and  also  of  Spenser's  decisive  appearance  as 
a  poet  in  The  Shepherd's  Calendar.  The  former,  though  now 
little  read,  deserves  mention  as  the  best  illustration  of  the 
narrowly  literary  ideals  of  the  age. 

John  Lyly  (15 53-1606)  was  educated  at  Magdalen  Col- 
lege, Oxford,  where  he  seems  to  have  gained  the  reputation 
of  being  a  trifler — "the  fiddlestick  of  Oxford,"  an  enemy 
called  him.  His  superficial  cleverness,  however,  enabled  him 
to  write  a  successful  account  of  the  culture  of  the  period, 
in  Euphues  or  the  Anatomy  of  Wit  (1579),  and  its  sequel, 
Euphues  and  his  England  (1580).  Together  they  form  a 
work  of  fiction  in  which  an  exceedingly  slight  plot  serves  to 
connect  a  succession  of  conversations,  letters,  and  essays, 
treating  such  subjects  as  love,  education,  religion,  and  man- 
ners. The  book  illustrates  the  interest  of  the  time  in  in- 
tellectual development,  restrained,  however,  by  the  feeling, 
stirred  by  the  Reformation,  that  "vain  is  all  learning  with- 
out the  taste  of  divine  knowledge." 

The  artificial  language  which  Euphues  and  his  friends 
talked,  and  which  became  a  literary  fashion,  is  the  character- 
istic of  the  book  for  which  it  is  remembered  to-day.  Among 
Lyly's  mannerisms  the  most  remarkable  is  the  arrangement 
of  words  in  antithesis,  the  contrast  being  marked  by  allitera- 
tion, thus:  "Although  I  have  shrined  thee  in  my  heart  for  a 
trusty  friend,  I  will  shunne  thee  hereafter  as  a  trothless  joe." 
Another  peculiarity  is  his  lavish  use  of  similes  drawn  from 
what  passed  for  natural  history,  as:  "The  milk  of  the  Ty- 
gresse,  that  the  more  salt  there  is  thrown  into  it  the  fresher 
it  is."  Euphuism  was  but  one  form  of  a  widely  diffused 
tendency  in  Renaissance  literature,  an  attempt  to  prove  the 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY 
From  the  miniature  by  Isaac  Oliver,  in  the  Royal  Library  at  Windsor  Castle 


Sir  Philip  Sidney  75 

artistic  value  of  prose  by  giving  it  some  of  the  qualities  of 
poetry.  Earlier  writers  than  Lyly  had  shown  traces  of  it; 
and  English  prose  did  not  escape  from  its  influence  until 
well  on  in  the  next  century. 

Sir  Philip  Sidney. — In  Lyly's  own  generation  other  forms 
of  this  tendency  appeared,  notably  that  introduced  by  the 
most  famous  Englishman  of  the  day,  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 
Sidney  was  born  in  1554,  of  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
families  in  England.  He  was  sent  to  Shrewsbury  school 
and  to  Oxford;  and  then  spent  some  time  abroad.  He  was 
in  Paris  at  the  time  of  the  terrible  massacre  of  St.  Barthol- 
omew's Day,  1572 — an  experience  which  must  have  strength- 
ened the  serious  purpose  of  his  life,  the  defence  of  the  Re- 
formed Faith.  Later,  in  Italy,  he  felt  the  attraction  of  the 
art  of  the  Renaissance,  and  was  himself  painted  by  the  great 
Venetian  painter,  Paul  Veronese.  He  returned  to  England 
to  become  the  most  brilliant  figure  of  Elizabeth's  court.  His 
uncle,  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  was  the  political  chief  of  the 
Puritan  party,  which  favored  committing  England  to  a 
definite  alliance  with  the  Protestant  states  of  Europe ;  and  in 
furtherance  of  this  policy  Sidney  was  sent  on  a  mission  to 
Germany  in  1577.  He  was  also  eagerly  interested  in  the 
development  of  English  power  on  the  sea.  In  1583  he  got  a 
grant  of  land  in  America,  and  two  years  later  he  made  an 
unsuccessful  attempt  to  escape  from  court  and  join  Sir 
Francis  Drake  in  one  of  his  half -piratical  expeditions  against 
the  Spaniards.  This  same  year  he  accompanied  the  English 
army  which  was  sent  to  help  the  Dutch  Protestants  against 
Spain;  and  in  1586  he  fell  in  a  skirmish  at  Zutphen. 

"Astrophel  and  Stella."  —  Sidney's  name,  more  than 
any  other,  stands  for  the  greatness  of  national  and  per- 
sonal ideals  which  we  associate  with  the  age  of  Elizabeth. 
It  isj  therefore,  somewhat  disappointing  to  find  his  writ- 
ing less  eminent  than  his  life.  It  must  be  remembered, 
however,  that  Sidney,  like  most  men  of  position  in  his  age, 
wrote  not  for  the  public,  but  for  himself  and  for  a  few 
friends.  This  is  especially  the  case  in  regard  to  his  poetry. 
The  courtiers  of  Elizabeth,  like  those  of  Henry  VIII.,  ex- 
pressed themselves  in  verse,  inspired  sometimes  by  love  or 


76  The  Renaissance 

by  a  spirit  of  courtly  compliment,  sometimes  by  meditation 
and  self-study.  Sidney's  contribution  to  this  court  poetry 
is  of  unusual  interest  because  of  its  connection  with  a  fas- 
cinating, if  shadowy,  love  story.  His  collection  of  songs  and 
sonnets,  called  Astro phel  and  Stella,  first  published  in  a 
pirated  edition  after  his  death,  is  evidently  addressed  to  one 
person,  Lady  Penelope  Devereux.  Sidney  and  Lady  Penelope 
had  been  betrothed  when  the  latter  was  a  child.  For  some 
reason  the  match  was  broken  off,  and  Lady  Penelope  married 
Lord  Rich,  with  whom  she  lived  for  a  while  most  unhappily. 
Whether  Sidney  actually  came  to  love  her,  or  whether  he 
wrote  love  sonnets  as  a  literary  exercise,  addressing  them  to 
his  old  friend  out  of  compliment  and  sympathy,  it  is  im- 
possible to  say.  On  the  one  hand  there  is  in  his  sonnets 
much  of  the  conventional  material  of  the  Italian  sonneteers ; 
but  on  the  other  there  are  touches  so  apt  to  the  situation  of 
a  man  who  loves  too  late,  that  one  hesitates  to  ascribe  them 
to  mere  dramatic  skill.  In  none  of  the  many  sonnet  cycles 
of  the  age,  except  Shakespeare's  and  Spenser's,  do  we  find 
so  much  that  has  the  stamp  of  personality  upon  it;  surely 
in  none  except  these,  so  much  that  has  the  accent  of  great 
poetry. 

"  The  Arcadia." — Sidney's  chief  literary  enterprise  was  the 
Arcadia,  which  he  began  in  1580,  when,  in  consequence  of  a 
quarrel  with  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  he  was  in  temporary  dis- 
grace and  banishment  from  court.  The  writing  of  the  A  rcadia 
was  merely  a  summer  pastime,  undertaken  to  please  the  Coun- 
tess of  Pembroke,  Sidney's  sister.  The  form  of  the  work  was 
suggested  by  romances,  popular  in  Italy  and  in  Spain,  of 
which  the  scenes  are  laid  in  a  pastoral  country  like  the  an- 
cient Arcadia.  The  prose  tale  is  interrupted  at  intervals  by 
passages  of  verse,  or  eclogues,  in  which  the  shepherds  sing 
of  love  and  the  delights  of  rural  life.  This  form  of  literature 
had  a  great  charm  for  people  who  were  becoming  a  little 
weary  of  the  activity  of  the  early  Renaissance;  and  Sidney 
himself,  in  his  banishment  from  court,  doubtless  felt  the 
influence  of  this  mood.  It  was,  however,  a  passing  one, 
for  Sidney  was  essentially  a  man  of  action;  and  his  story, 
which  begins  in  thoroughly  pastoral  fashion,  quickly  changes 


Sir  Walter  Raleigh  77 

to  a  kind  of  romance  of  chivalry  set  in  an  Arcadian  landscape. 
Throughout  its  great  length  Sidney  spins  his  tale  with  a  pure 
love  for  it,  with  the  enthusiasm  that  he  might  have  thrown 
into  a  buccaneering  expedition  to  the  Indies,  if  fortune  had 
been  kind  to  him ;  and  this  is  the  real  source  of  such  pleas-* 
ure  as  we  feel  to-day  in  reading  the  Arcadia. 

The  "  Defence  of  Poesy." — Sidney  was  not  only  poet  and 
romancer,  but  also  one  of  the  earliest  of  English  critics.  In 
1579  Stephen  Gosson  published  a  pamphlet  called  The  School 
0]  Abuse,  in  which,  as  a  Puritan,  he  attacked  the  art  of  the 
age,  especially  the  drama.  Sidney  replied,  in  1 581,  with  his 
Defence  of  Poesy,  in  which  he  replied  to  Gosson's  strictures 
and  defended  English  verse,  even  of  the  native  ballad  sort, 
exclaiming,  "I  never  heard  the  old  song  of  'Percy  and 
Douglas'  that  I  found  not  my  heart  moved  more  than  with 
a  trumpet." 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh. — A  name  that,  partly  by  force  of  con- 
trast, is  always  associated  with  Sidney's,  is  that  of  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh.  Raleigh  was  born  in  Devonshire  in  1552.  He 
was  at  Oxford  for  a  while,  but  left  to  join  the  French  reform- 
ers in  their  resistance  to  the  Catholics.  Following  his  return 
to  England  he  was  busy  for  many  years  with  intrigues  for 
power  at  court,  with  attempts  to  win  estates  in  Ireland  and 
to  establish  colonies  in  America.  He  took  a  leading  part  in 
the  events  of  the  war  with  Spain, — the  destruction  of  the 
Armada  and  the  attack  upon  Cadiz.  After  the  accession  of 
James  I.  he  was  charged  with  conspiracy  against  the  new 
monarch,  and  thrown  into  the  Tower.  The  king  released 
him  to  lead  an  expedition  to  Guiana,  in  search  of  gold,  but 
his  return  without  accomplishing  his  object  was  the  signal 
for  his  execution  in  1618. 

Raleigh's  Character. — Sidney  is  the  best  example  of  perfect 
balance  between  the  opposed  tendencies  of  the  times,  the  im- 
pulses that  led  men  to  strive  for  pleasure,  richness  of  experi- 
ence, and  glory,  and  the  motives  of  religious  and  patriotic 
devotion.  Raleigh  is  representative  of  all  these  tendencies 
in  their  most  exaggerated  form.  The  well-known  story  of 
the  young  courtier  spreading  his  rich  cloak  across  a  puddle 
for  Elizabeth  to  walk  upon,  marks  the  devotion  of  men  to  the 


78  The  Renaissance 

person  of  the  queen  at  its  most  fantastic  moment.  And  in 
many  other  things  he  went  beyond  other  men.  He  did  more 
against  Spain — both  in  the  battle  with  the  Armada  and  in 
the  great  attack  on  Cadiz  in  1596.  In  his  expeditions  to 
South  America  he  was  the  most  splendid  of  the  buccaneers, 
and  he  was  also  the  most  indefatigable  of  colonizers.  Eight 
expeditions  at  his  own  cost  he  sent  to  the  shore  of  Virginia. 
He  was  a  poet,  and  he  wrote  the  history  of  the  world.  Courtly 
chivalry,  politics,  love,  war,  art,  colonization,  piracy — he  was 
at  home  in  all  fields.  In  his  versatility,  his  energy,  his  dar- 
ing freedom  of  will,  he  typifies  that  individual  spirit  of  the 
Renaissance  which  found  expression  in  the  exaggerations  of 
personal  desires  and  the  over-weening  ambitions  of  Marlowe's 
dramas.  And  if  there  is  much  that  is  inconsistent  and  even 
false  in  his  character  and  life,  he  had  always  the  distinction 
that  came  from  the  magnificence  of  his  enterprises.  When 
he  mentioned  to  Bacon  his  plan  of  seizing  the  Mexico  fleet, 
the  latter  cried  "  But  that  would  be  piracy."  "  Oh,  no,"  said 
Raleigh.  "Did  you  ever  hear  of  men  who  are  pirates  for 
millions?    They  who  aim  at  small  things  are  pirates." 

Raleigh's  Writings. — Raleigh's  literary  work  consists  of 
his  poems,  political  tracts,  narratives  of  adventures  in  which 
he  was  directly  or  indirectly  concerned,  such  as  his  Discovery 
of  Guiana,  and  the  account  of  the  "Last  Fight  of  the  Re- 
venge," and  finally  his  History  0}  the  World,  written  during 
the  long  years  of  his  imprisonment  in  the  Tower. 

Raleigh's  poems,  like  those  of  other  courtly  poets  of  the 
time,  were  circulated  in  manuscript,  and  many  have  disap- 
peared, including  the  greater  part  of  his  long  poem,  Cynthia, 
written  in  praise  of  Elizabeth.  Those  which  have  survived 
often  have  special  reference  to  events  in  his  own  life  or  com- 
memorate particular  moods,  in  a  strain  which  a  critic  of  the 
time  calls  "most  lofty,  insolent,  and  passionate." 

That  Raleigh,  old  and  in  prison,  should  have  addressed 
himself  to  writing  a  history  of  the  world,  is  another  evidence 
of  the  greatness  of  his  visions,  the  preoccupation  of  his  mind 
with  vast  issues.  He  began  his  work  in  1607,  and  the  first 
volume  was  published  in  1614,  under  the  direction  of  Ben 
Jonson,  from  whom  Raleigh  received  much  assistance.    Most 


Edmund  Spenser  79 

of  the  history  is  written  in  the  rather  loose  style  of  Raleigh's 
personal  narratives,  with  long  formless  sentences ;  but  at  times 
he  rises  to  a  superb  eloquence,  which  gives  passages  of  an 
imaginative  splendor  and  solemnity  of  music  that  have  never 
been  surpassed  in  English  prose.  Such  is  the  apostrophe  to 
Death  with  which  Raleigh,  himself  in  the  shadow  of  the  scaf- 
fold, took  leave  of  his  mighty  enterprise : 

"  O  eloquent,  just,  and  mighty  Death !  Whom  none  could 
advise,  thou  hast  persuaded;  what  none  hath  dared,  thou 
hast  done;  and  whom  all  the  world  hath  flattered,  thou  only 
hast  cast  out  of  the  world  and  despised — thou  hast  drawn 
together  all  the  far-stretched  greatness,  all  the  pride,  cruelty, 
and  ambition  of  man,  and  covered  it  all  over  with  these  two 
narrow  words,  Hie  jacet." 

IV.    EDMUND   SPENSER    (i  5  5 2-1 599) 

Spenser's  Life. — Spenser  was  born  in  London  in  1552. 
He  was  sent  to  the  Merchant  Tailors'  School,  and  then  to 
Pembroke  College,  Cambridge,  where  he  took  his  master's 
degree  in  1576.  He  then  spent  some  time  in  the  north  of 
England.  In  1578,  however,  he  was  in  London,  in  at- 
tendance on  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  seeking  to  establish  him- 
self through  the  influence  of  his  friends  at  court.  After 
the  publication  of  his  Shepherd's  Calendar,  in  1579,  he 
received  an  appointment  in  Ireland,  as  secretary  to  the 
deputy,  Lord  Grey  de  Wilton.  In  Ireland  Spenser  was 
given  office,  and  was  granted,  among  other  estates,  the  Manor 
of  Kilcolman,  whither  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  came  in  1589  to 
visit  him.  Raleigh  saw  the  first  three  books  of  The  Faerie 
Queene  ;  and  under  his  advice  Spenser  went  to  London  in 
the  following  year,  to  read  them  to  the  Queen  and  to  publish 
them.  The  success  of  the  poem  was  immediate,  but  the 
reward  from  the  Queen,  in  whose  honor  it  was  written,  was 
disappointingly  small.  The  circumstances  of  his  journey 
to  London  he  related,  after  his  return  to  Ireland,  in  Colin 
Clout's  Come  Home  Again,  in  which  he  resumed  the  pas- 
toral style  of  The  Shepherd's  Calendar.  In  the  next  few 
years  Spenser  commemorated  his  own  courtship  and  marriage 


EDMUND  SPENSER 
rrom  an  original  picture  in  the  possession  of  the  Earl  of  Kinnoul) 


Edmund  Spenser  81 

in  the  sonnet  series,  the  "  Amoretti,"  and  in  his  wedding  song, 
or  "  Epithalamion."  He  went  to  London  again  in  1596,  to 
publish  the  second  three  books  of  The  Faerie  Queene.  During 
this  visit  he  wrote  the  "Hymn  in  Honour  of  Heavenly  Love," 
and  "  Hymn  in  Honour  of  Heavenly  Beauty,"  to  accompany 
two  earlier  "Hymns  in  Honour  of  Love  and  Beauty."  He 
also  wrote  at  this  time  the  most  exquisite  of  his  shorter 
poems,  the  "  Prothalamion."  Soon  after  his  return  to  Kil- 
colman,  there  broke  out  one  of  those  frequent  insurrections 
which  marked  British  rule  in  Ireland.  Spenser's  castle, 
which  stood  in  the  path  of  the  storm,  was  sacked  and 
burned.  He  fled  with  his  family  to  London,  where,  in  1599, 
he  died  in  poverty. 

Spenser's  Cambridge  Period. — Spenser's  life  was  spent 
chiefly  in  three  places,  each  of  which  left  strong  marks  upon 
his  character  and  work — Cambridge,  London,  and  Ireland. 
At  Cambridge  he  found  the  learning  of  the  Renaissance, 
especially  the  philosophy  of  Plato,  which  appears  clearly  in 
The  Faerie  Queene  and  in  the  "Hymns."  Here  also  he 
learned  to  know  the  literature  of  France  and  Italy,  and  here 
he  came  into  contact  with  the  literary  theories  of  the  time ; 
one  of  which  was  the  idea,  put  forward  by  Sidney  and  his 
friends,  that  English  verse  should  be  written  according  to 
Latin  rules  of  prosody.  Spenser  was  too  genuine  a.  poet  to 
be  injured  by  such  theories,  but  the  influence  of  the  environ- 
ment where  they  were  rife  is  seen  in  his  scrupulous  attention 
to  the  technical  requirements  of  his  art. 

Of  this  Cambridge  period  the  typical  product  is  The 
Shepherd's  Calendar,  a  series  of  twelve  pastoral  poems  or 
eclogues.  The  eclogue  in  general  was  a  poem  of  pastoral 
life,  in  which  shepherds  were  the  speakers,  rural  nature  and 
love  their  usual  themes.  The  poet  might  introduce  matter 
personal  to  himself  or  his  friends,  or  might  even  discuss  poli- 
tical affairs,  but  he  kept  the  conventional  framework  of  the 
pastoral.  In  Spenser's  fifth  eclogue,  for  example,  Arch- 
bishop Grindal  figures  as  the  good  shepherd  Algrind.  The 
poems  of  The  Shepherd's  Calendar  show  much  variety  in 
metre,  for  Spenser  was  clearly  practising  and  experimenting. 
But  most  remarkable  among  their  literary  qualities  is  the 


82  The  Renaissance 

diction,  which  he  elaborated  for  himself  with  the  design  of 
giving  a  suggestion  of.  antiquity  and  rusticity  to  his  writings. 
This  curious  fondness  for  obsolete  or  coined  words  is  char- 
acteristic of  the  artificial  style  affected  by  the  age.  It  is 
carried  so  far  in  The  Faerie  Queene  that  Ben  Jonson  could 
say  of  Spenser  that  he  "writ  no  language." 

Spenser  in  London  and  Ireland. —  In  London  Spenser 
was  at  the  centre  of  the  thrilling  national  life  of  England. 
Through  Leicester  and  Sidney  he  was  introduced  to  the  two 
leading  political  conceptions  of  the  time,  England's  lead- 
ership of  the  Protestant  cause  in  Europe  against  Spain 
and  Rome,  and  her  expansion  beyond  the  seas — ideas  that 
were  the  result  partly  of  fantastic  chivalry,  and  partly  of 
a  broad  view  of  world  politics.  Finally,  in  Ireland  he 
saw  the  English  race  in  passionate  conflict  with  opposing 
forces.  The  chronically  disturbed  state  of  the  country  was 
aggravated  by  the  intrigues  of  Philip  of  Spain  and  the  Pope 
with  the  Irish  chieftains,  provoking  those  revolts  which  Lord 
Grey,  strong  in  his  belief  that  the  Irish  were  the  foes  of  God 
and  of  civilization,  put  down  with  savage  fury.  Naturally, 
Spenser's  residence  in  Ireland,  by  bringing  him  into  actual 
conflict  with  evil,  stimulated  his  moral  enthusiasm.  Out  of 
the  conception  of  the  greatness  of  England's  mission,  which 
Spenser  found  in  London  and  struggled  to  realize  in  Ireland, 
and  out  of  his  chivalric  devotion  to  this  ideal,  and  to  the 
Queen  who  typified  it,  grew  The  Faerie  Queene.  It  is  the 
brightest  expression  of  the  ideal  morality  of  the  time;  and 
in  a  sense  is  the  epic  of  the  English  race  at  one  of  the  great 
moments  of  its  history. 

The  Faerie  Queene. — Spenser  and  his  contemporaries  re- 
garded moral  purpose  as  essential  to  the  greatest  art;  and 
with  Spenser  this  purpose  took  the  form  of  dealing  with  the 
old  problem  of  the  Renaissance — individual  character  in 
relation  to  the  state.  As  he  explained  in  his  introductory 
letter  to  Raleigh,  The  Faerie  Queene  was  to  show  forth  the 
character  of  an  ideal  knight  in  twelve  books,  each  devoted 
to  one  of  the  twelve  qualities  of  perfect  chivalry.  This  ex- 
position of  private  virtue  was  to.  be  followed  by  a  second 
poem,  which  should  portray  the  virtues  of  the  ideal  knight 


Edmund  Spenser  83 

as  governor.  In  fact,  Spenser  wrote  only  six  books,  each  of 
twelve  cantos,  and  a  fragment  of  a  seventh.  The  first  is 
given  to  the  Red  Cross  Knight,  who  represents  Holiness ;  the 
second  to  Sir  Guyon,  or  Temperance;  the  third  to  Britomarte, 
or  Chastity;  the  fourth  to  Cambel  and  Triamond,  or  Friend- 
ship; the  fifth  to  Sir  Artegall,  or  Justice;  the  sixth  to  Sir 
Calidore,  or  Courtesy.  These  knights,  as  we  learn  from 
Spenser's  introductory  letter,  are  despatched  on  their  various 
quests  by  Gloriana,  Queen  of  Fairyland.  In  the  course  of 
their  adventures  appears  from  time  to  time  the  perfect  knight, 
Arthur,  who  is  himself  in  search  of  the  Faerie  Queene. 
The  allegory  takes  at  times  a  political  turn,  and  the  char- 
acters, besides  representing  ideal  qualities,  refer  directly  to 
actual  persons.  Spenser  explained:  "In  that  Faerie  Queene 
I  mean  glory  in  my  generall  intention,  but  in  my  particular  I 
conceive  the  most  excellent  and  glorious  person  of  our  sover- 
aine  the  Queene."  Belphcebe  and  Britomarte  also  represent 
Elizabeth;  Arthur  is  Leicester;  the  false  lady  Duessa  is  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots.  In  the  fifth  book  the  political  state  of 
Europe  is  presented  at  length,  with  Lord  Grey  as  Artegall, 
France  as  Flourdelis,  Henry  IV.  as  Burbon,  Holland  as  Beige, 
and  Philip  II.  of  Spain  as  Grantorto.  This  was  but  natural  in 
an  age  in  which  politics  were  colored  by  religious  feeling,  and 
in  which  public  and  private  conduct,  as  typified  by  Sidney, 
Raleigh,  and  Essex,  was  still  touched  with  something  of  the 
glamor  of  the  chivalry  which  had  passed  away. 

Spenser  and  Ariosto. — The  moral  seriousness  which  un- 
derlies the  poem  marks  the  great  difference  between  The 
Faerie  Queene  and  its  Italian  prototype.  Spenser,  like  Wyatt 
and  Surrey,  was  content  to  go  to  school  to  Italy;  and  he 
chose  as  the  model  for  his  great  work  the  Orlando  Furioso  of 
Ariosto.  Both  Ariosto  and  Spenser  deal  with  chivalry ;  but 
while  Ariosto  had  merely  the  delight  of  the  artist  in  the 
brilliant  color  which  chivalry  gave  to  life,  with  the  easy  con- 
tempt of  the  cynic  for  its  moral  elements,  Spenser  found  in  its 
persons  and  ideals  a  means  of  making  goodness  attractive. 
In  details  Spenser  learned  much  from  Ariosto;  many  pas- 
sages he  wrote  in  avowed  imitation.  His  prevailing  differ- 
ence is  in  the  greater  richness  and  elaboration  of  his  style, 


84  The  Renaissance 

of  which  the  "  Spenserian  stanza  "  is  typical.  This  stanza 
consists  of  two  interlinked  quatrains,  with  an  added  line  of 
six  feet,  the  arrangement  thus  being  ababbcbcc.  The  brilliancy 
of  the  invention  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  it  adapts  itself 
readily  to  the  different  demands  of  narrative,  descriptive, 
and  moral  poetry;  and  that  the  poem  sustains  itself  through- 
out its  great  length  with  so  much  variety  of  effect. 

Spenser's  Art. — For  the  rest,  Spenser  has  the  great  gift  of 
the  poet,  the  power  to  create  the  illusion  of  a  different  world, 
a  world  of  magic  where  the  imagination  and  the  senses  are 
satisfied.  The  Faerie  Queene  is  a  long  procession  of  figures, 
brilliant,  fantastic,  or  terrible,  which  singly  or  in  groups  pass 
across  an  ever  varying,  ever  wonderful  landscape.  And  al- 
most as  marked  as  Spenser's  feeling  for  form  and  color,  is 
his  use  of  sound.  His  sensitiveness  of  ear  is  shown  by  the 
melody  of  his  verse,  so  constant  yet  so  varied ;  but  there  are 
also  many  passages  in  which  he  makes  suggestions  of  the 
music  of  nature  an  element  of  pleasure  in  his  description. 
Altogether,  Spenser  has  the  resources  of  the  whole  world  of 
sensation  at  command,  and  he  never  fails  to  heighten  them 
with  the  illusions  of  his  art.  Of  the  color,  the  savor,  the 
music  of  life,  his  poem  is  full — only  the  color  is  brighter,  the 
taste  sweeter,  the  music  grander,  than  any  which  it  is  given 
to  mortal  senses  to  know. 

And  this  world  of  imagined  splendor  is  presented  as  the 
background  of  a  steadily  growing  idea  of  righteousness,  of 
heroic  goodness.  The  union  of  the  two  elements,  sensuous 
and  moral,  seems  at  times  to  involve  a  naive  inconsistency. 
But  Spenser  belonged  to  an  age  when  it  seemed  not  im- 
possible that  there  should  be  some  common  ground  between 
the  spirit  of  the  Reformation  and  that  of  Humanism.  He 
was  perhaps  a  Puritan;  but  more  fortunate  than  Milton,  he 
came  before  Puritanism  had  narrowed  its  view  of  life  to  the 
single  issue  of  salvation.  There  is  indeed  in  Spenser,  as  in 
many  of  his  contemporaries,  a  note  of  melancholy,  which 
suggests  that  the  eternal  contradiction  of  the  joy  of  the  present 
life  by  the  threat  of  its  hereafter,  was  not  unheard.  The 
flowers  are  already  lightly  touched  by  the  frost.  But  this 
reminder  that  the  time  of  free  delight  in  the  outer  world  was 


Professional  Writing  85 

so  short,  its  sunshine  so  threatened  by  the  clouds  of  Puritan- 
ism, makes  its  brightest  product  the  more  precious. 


V.      PROFESSIONAL  WRITING 

Prose. — After  the  literary  awakening  marked  by  the  writers 
already  treated,  the  stream  of  literary  production  became 
at  once  very  copious.  Curiosity  about  the  world  was  a 
leading  instinct  among  men  of  the  Renaissance ;  this  instinct 
once  aroused  led  to  the  rapid  growth  of  the  reading  public, 
and  the  business  of  ministering  to  its  demands  became  a 
recognized  profession.  Romances,  essays  on  religious  or 
political  subjects,  histories,  voyagers'  tales,  as  well  as  numer- 
ous translations  from  ancient  and  foreign  literature  were 
turned  out  in  great  numbers  and  greedily  absorbed.  This 
work  was  done  by  men  of  miscellaneous  interests,  who  labored 
indifferently  in  any  field  to  which  the  taste  of  the  public  led 
them.  One  of  the  most  broadly  characteristic  of  these 
writers  is  Robert  Greene  (1560-1592).  He  began  his  career 
by  writing  romances  in  the  style  of  Lyly.  Later,  when  the 
Arcadia  had  begun  to  circulate  in  manuscript,  he  imitated 
Sidney  in  a  pastoral  tale  called  Menaphon,  and  he  pub- 
lished also  realistic  accounts  of  life  in  London,  translations 
of  Italian  stories,  pamphlets,  and  plays.  Greene  and  his 
particular  associates,  George  Peele,  Thomas  Nash,  and 
Christopher  Marlowe,  were  the  first  professional  writers. 
Unlike  Sidney,  who  followed  literature  as  an  amateur,  or 
Spenser,  who  looked  for  support  to  the  patronage  of  the  rich 
or  preferment  from  the  queen,  they  undertook  to  live  directly 
upon  their  literary  earnings.  Moreover,  as  a  class,  they 
showed  the  intense  desire  for  pleasure,  the  violence  of  pas- 
sion, the  impatience  of  restraint,  social  or  moral,  which  were 
characteristic  of  the  Renaissance  in  Italy  rather  than  in  Eng- 
land. The  irregularity  of  their  lives  has  made  them  heroes 
of  stories  famous  among  the  tragedies  of  literature.  Mar- 
lowe was  stabbed  to  death  in  a  tavern  brawl ;  Peele  died  of 
dissipation ;  Greene,  as  the  story  goes,  from  over-eating,  and 
Nash  of  starvation. 


86  The  Renaissance 

Poetry. — As  the  prose  literature  of  the  period  was  in- 
jured by  the  adoption  of  the  euphuistic  style  for  every 
purpose,  so  its  poetry  suffered  from  the  failure  of  its  authors 
to  separate  the  proper  matter  of  poetry  from  that  of  prose. 
They  gave  verse  form  not  only  to  history,  but  also  to  politics, 
philosophy,  geography,  and  science.  It  is  not  of  these  works 
that  we  think,  "however,  when  we  speak  of  the  glory  of  Eliza- 
bethan verse,  but  of  the  lyric  element,  which  in  nearly  all  the 
writers  of  the  time  flows  somewhere  like  a  stream  of  living 
water,  making  glad  the  waste  places  of  their  larger  works. 
The  romances  of  the  time  contain  many  exquisite  songs 
which  are  preserved  in  the  anthologies  of  English  verse, 
while  the  works  which  furnished  the  original  setting  for  them 
are  forgotten.  The  dramas  of  Lyly,  Peele,  and,  above  all, 
Shakespeare,  abound  in  lyrical  interludes,  and  Marlowe  is 
as  famous  for  his  little  song  "  Come  live  with  me  and  be  my 
love,"  as  for  the  most  imposing  of  his  plays. 

Among  the  courtiers  of  Elizabeth,  as  has  been  said,  verse 
was  a  natural  language.  The  lyrics  of  these  courtly  writers 
circulated  in  manuscript  and  doubtless  many  of  them  have 
disappeared.  A  number  of  them,  however,  are  preserved 
in  the  poetical  miscellanies  which  from  time  to  time  were 
issued  after  the  fashion  of  "Tottel's  Miscellany."  The 
popular  demand  for  lyric  verse  is  also  attested  by  the  numer- 
ous books  of  songs  and  airs,  in  some  of  which  not  only  the 
words  but  the  music  also  have  been  preserved.  Indeed  the 
temperament  of  the  age  may  be  tested  by  its  songs.  They 
reflect  its  delight  in  youth  and  nature,  in  love,  and  in  the 
glory  of  arms,  sometimes  in  the  mere  pleasure  of  singing. 
But  besides  this  exuberant  joy  in  life,  which  the  Renaissance 
brought  to  men,  there  is  also  a  steady  tone  of  seriousness  and 
religious  feeling,  which  reminds  us  that  in  England  the  Refor- 
mation and  the  Renaissance  advanced  together.  In  the  lyric 
poetry  of  the  time,  as  in  The  Faerie  Queene,  we  are  struck 
by  the  mingling  of  sensuousness  and  piety — but  the  latter 
is  no  gloomy  forbidding  of  the  joy  of  living,  nor  even  a  threat- 
ening of  its  end  by  death,  but  a  trust  in  the  Creator  as  frank 
and  honest  as  is  the  delight  in  the  world  which  He  has 
made. 


Review  Outline  87 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— The  political  situation  in  England  between 
1400  and  1485  should  be  noted  as  a  reason  for  the  literary  decline; 
and  the  changes  which  followed  the  accession  of  Henry  VII.  and  the 
beginning  of  the  new  monarchy,  as  making  the  conditions  for  the  Eng- 
lish Renaissance.  What  was  the  essential  element  in  the  Renaissance? 
What  was  the  situation  of  the  individual  man  under  the  feudal  system? 
Under  the  mediaeval  church  ?  What  change  did  the  Renaissance  bring 
about  in  the  attitude  of  men  toward  the  world  ?  Suggest  several  rea- 
sons for  the  rapid  development  of  the  Renaissance  in  Italy.  What 
did  other  nations  contribute  to  the  Renaissance?  What  conditions  of 
the  fifteenth  century  tended  to  forward  the  Renaissance  in  England  ? 
What  caused  the  revival  of  learning  in  Italy?  How  was  it  brought  to 
England?    What  was  its  influence  on  literature? 

In  considering  the  progress  of  the  Renaissance  in  England  it  may 
be  interesting  to  point  out  some  differences  between  the  English  move- 
ment and  the  Italian.  In  the  first  place  the  influence  of  patriotism 
centering  about  the  person  of  the  English  sovereign  should  be  noted,  as 
limiting  the  exercise  of  personal  ambition,  which  in  Italy  made  for 
division.  And  in  the  second  place,  the  fact  that  in  England  the  Refor- 
mation took  place  before  the  Renaissance  had  got  its  full  headway, 
should  be  recalled;  and  the  influence  of  the  new  religious  interest, 
checking  the  temptations  of  the  time  toward  a  life  of  pleasure,  should 
be  noted  in  writers  from  Wyatt  to  Spenser.  It  will  be  well  also  to 
examine  rather  carefully  the  history  of  the  time,  and  observe  how 
the  religious  and  the  national  spirit,  stimulated  by  various  events, 
reached  their  height  under  Elizabeth  in  the  years  which  saw  also  the 
appearance  of  the  greater  Elizabethan  literature. 

What  were  some  of  the  characteristics  of  the  court  of  Henry  VIII? 
Comment  on  the  character  of  the  king.  What  influences  moulded  the 
character  of  Sir  Thomas  More?  What  was  his  purpose  in  "  Utopia"? 
What  are  some  of  the  features  of  the  Utopian  society?  In  what  way 
is  the  book  typical  of  the  Renaissance?  What  influence  did  the  court 
of  Henry  VIII.  have  on  poetry?  Name  the  chief  poets  of  his  court. 
What  is  the  chief  characteristic  of  Wyatt's  verse?  What  were  the  ser- 
vices of  Wyatt  and  Surrey  to  English  poetry  ? 

The  Renaissance  was  in  England  very  largely  a  matter  of  imitation. 
The  Reformation  was  a  more  spontaneous  national  movement.  What 
earlier  attempts  at  religious  reform  had  prepared  the  way  for  the 
English  Reformation  ?    What  political  situation  in  the  reign  of  Henry 


88  The  Renaissance 

VIII.  furthered  it?  What  were  the  features  of  the  Reformation  under 
Edward  VI.  and  Mary?  What  was  the  religious  policy  of  Elizabeth? 
What  was  the  influence  of  Tyndale  and  Coverdale's  translation  of  the 
Bible  on  literature?    What  was  the  "Book  of  Martyrs"? 

The  years  between  the  death  of  Henry  VIII.  and  the  accession  of 
Elizabeth  may  be  regarded  as  a  period  of  reaction,  between  the  earlier 
and  the  later  Renaissance.  With  the  accession  of  Elizabeth  came  a 
quickening  of  all  the  forces  of  the  age,  the  individual  spirit  of  ambition 
and  adventure,  thirst  for  pleasure,  and  love  of  glory,  which  may  be  illus- 
trated from  the  life  of  Raleigh,  and  the  plays  of  Marlowe,  to  be  discussed 
in  the  next  chapter;  the  spirit  of  religious  patriotism,  which  finds  its 
personal  representation  in  Sidney,  and  its  literary  expression  in  "  The 
Faerie  Queene."  Who  was  John  Lyly?  What  is  the  character  of 
«*  Euphues"?  What  does  it  illustrate?  What  characteristic  marked 
its  style?  Outline  the  career  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  What  was  "  Astro- 
phel  nd  Stella  "  ?  Why  did  Sidney  write  the  "  Arcadia  "  ?  Give  some 
characteristics  of  the  story.  What  was  the  "  Defence  of  Poesy "  ? 
Contrast  Raleigh  with  Sidney  in  character  and  in  career.  In  what 
respects  is  Raleigh  an  illustration  of  the  interests  of  his  time?  What 
are  his  chief  works  ? 

Outline  the  life  of  Spenser.  What  was  the  influence  on  him  of 
Cambridge?  of  London?  of  Ireland?  What  was  the  "Shepherd's 
Calendar"?  Under  what  circumstances  did  Spenser  write  "The 
Faerie  Queene"?  What  was  the  purpose  of  the  poem?  What  its 
plan  ?  How  does  Spenser  illustrate  the  dependence  of  English  litera- 
ture upon  Italian?    What  is  the  Spenserian  stanza? 

What  led  to  the  growth  of  the  reading  public  at  the  time  of  the 
Renaissance?  What  effects  did  this  growth  have  upon  literature? 
Illustrate  from  the  career  of  Robert  Greene.  How  do  Greene  and 
his  friends  differ  from  Spenser  and  Sidney  in  their  attitude  toward 
literature?  In  their  lives?  Explain  the  prominence  of  lyric  verse 
in  this  period. 

READING  GUIDE.— All  students  should  read  at  least  Canto  I, 
Book  I,  of  the  "Faerie  Queene";  this  portion  of  the  poem  is  given  in 
Maynard's  English  Classic  series.  If  further  reading  is  required  in 
Spenser,  it  should  include  the  "Prothalamion,"  and  the  first  portion  of 
"Colin  Clout"  or  "The  Shepherd's  Calendar."  Convenient  texts  are 
"Minor  Poems  of  Spenser,"  in  the  Temple  Classics,  and  "  Selected 


Reading  Guide  89 

Poems,"  in  the  Canterbury  Poets  series.  Lowell's  essay  on  Spenser,  in 
"Among  My  Books,"  should,  if  possible,  be  read. 

The  "Utopia"  and  "Roper's  Life  of  More"  are  printed  together  in 
the  Camelot  Series  and  in  the  Temple  Classics.  Volunteers  may  be 
called  upon  to  read  and  report  to  the  class  upon  each  of  these. 

For  Wyatt,  Surrey,  and  Sidney,  the  poems  given  in  "The  Golden 
Treasury"  or  in  "Ward's  English  Poets,"  Vol.  I,  should,  if  possible, 
be  read,  either  privately  by  each  student  or  before  the  class. 

Sidney's  "Defence  of  Poesy"  is  edited  by  A.  S.  Cooke  (Ginn),  and  in 
the  Pitt  Press  Series. 

Green's  "Short  History  of  the  English  People,"  chapter  vii,  is  ex* 
cellent  for  supplementing  the  student's  knowledge  of  the  times. 

Kingsley's  "Westward  Ho"  gives  a  vigorous  picture  of  England's 
struggle  with  Spain  by  sea  and  in  America.  Tennyson's  "Ballad  of 
the  Revenge"  is  excellent  to  illustrate  the  patriotic  temper  of  Elizabeth's 
reign. 


CHAPTER    VI 

THE  RENAISSANCE:  THE  DRAMA  BEFORE  SHAKE- 
SPEARE 

I.   THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE   DRAMA  :     NATIVE    SOURCES 

Norman  Shows  and  Pageants. — To  trace  the  English  drama 
from  the  beginning,  we  must  go  back  as  far  as  the  Norman 
conquest.  The  Norman  people  had  a  great  fondness  for 
shows  and  spectacles.  When  the  Norman  kings  were  once 
firmly  seated  on  the  English  throne,  they  gave  full  rein  to 
their  taste  for  splendid  pageantry.  If  a  royal  wedding  was 
to  be  celebrated,  or  a  victorious  monarch  welcomed  back 
from  war,  London  was  turned  into  a  place  of  festival.  At  the 
entrance  gate  of  the  city,  or  at  fixed  places  on  the  route  to 
church  or  palace,  elaborate  structures  were  built,  representing 
some  mythical  or  allegorical  scene — the  gods  grouped  upon 
Olympus,  an  armed  St.  George  giving  combat  to  a  golden 
dragon,  or  nymphs  and  satyrs  sporting  in  enchanted  gar- 
dens. Sometimes  music  was  added,  and  the  personators, 
by  dialogue  and  action,  gave  welcome  to  the  royal  party. 
These  pageants  developed  at  the  Renaissance  into  a  special 
form  of  dramatic  entertainment,  the  Masque.  Meanwhile, 
by  stimulating  in  the  people  a  love  of  dramatic  spectacle, 
they  helped  to  pave  the  way  for  regular  drama. 

The  Miracle  Play :  Its  Origin  and  Growth. — A  much  more 
important  source  of  the  drama,  however,  was  the  mass- 
service  of  the  Catholic  church,  especially  at  Christmas-tide 
and  Easter.  The  ordinary  services  at  these  times  were 
enriched  with  special  ceremonies,  such  as  burying  the  cruci- 
fix in  a  tomb  of  the  church  on  Good  Friday  and  disinterring 
it  on  Easter  morning,  with  monks  or  choir-boys  to  take  the 
parts  of  the  three  Marys,  the  angel  at  the  tomb,  and  the 
chorus  of  rejoicing  angels  in  heaven.    These  little  dramatic 

99- 


Origin  of  the  Drama  9] 

ceremonies  gradually  became  detached  from  the  service,  and 
were  moved  from  the  church  into  the  church-yard.  Later, 
when  the  crowds  desecrated  the  graves  in  their  eagerness  to 
see  and  hear,  the  plays  were  transferred  to  the  public  green 
or  town  square.  By  Chaucer's  time  these  "miracle  plays" 
or  "mysteries"  had  passed  to  a  large  extent  out  of  the  hands 
of  the  priests,  and  had  come  under  the  control  of  the  trade- 
guilds,  who  made  use  of  them  to  celebrate  their  annual  festival 
of  Corpus  Christi.  Rivalry  among  the  guilds,  and  the  desire 
of  each  to  possess  a  separate  play,  led  to  the  setting  forth  of 
the  whole  Scripture  story  from  Genesis  to  Revelations,  in 
a  series  or  cycle  forming  a  great  drama,  of  which  the  separate 
plays  were,  in  a  sense,  only  single  acts.  It  was  the  aim  of 
these  great  miracle-cycles  to  give  a  connected  view  of  God's 
dealings  with  man,  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  until  its 
destruction. 

How  Miracle  Plays  Were  Presented. — In  order  to  gain  some 
idea  of  the  impression  made  by  the  miracle  plays  upon  the 
people  who  witnessed  them,  let  us  imagine  ourselves  for  a 
moment  in  a  provincial  English  town  at  the  beginning  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  on  the  morning  of  Corpus  Christi  day. 
Shortly  after  dawn,  heralds  have  made  the  round  of  the  city 
to  announce  the  coming  spectacle.  The  places  where  the 
cars  or  "pageants,"  which  form  both  stage  and  dressing- 
room,  are  to  stop,  are  crowded  with  the  motley  population 
of  a  mediaeval  city.  The  spectators  of  importance  occupy 
seats  upon  scaffolds  erected  for  the  purpose,  or  look  on  from 
the  windows  of  neighboring  houses,  while  the  humbler  folk 
jostle  each  other  in  the  street. 

Soon  the  first  pageant  appears,  a  great  box  mounted 
on  four  wheels  and  drawn  by  apprentices  of  the  masons' 
guild,  which  guild  is  charged  with  presenting  the  Creation 
of  Eve  and  the  Fall  of  Man.  The  curtains  at  the  front 
and  the  sides  of  the  great  box  are  drawn,  revealing  an 
upper  compartment,  within  which  the  main  action  is  to  take 
place.  On  a  raised  platform  sits  enthroned  a  majestic 
figure  in  a  red  robe,  with  gilt  hair  and  beard,  impersonating 
the  Creator.  Before  him  lies  Adam,  dressed  in  a  close- 
fitting  leather  garment  painted  white  or  flesh-color.     The 


92  The  Renaissance 

Creator,  after  announcing  his  intention  of  making  for  Adam 
a  helpmeet,  descends  and  touches  the  sleeper's  side.  There- 
upon Eve  rises  through  a  trap-door,  and  Adam  wakes  re- 
joicing. Again  the  Creator  ascends  to  his  throne,  and  Adam 
withdraws  to  a  corner  of  the  pageant,  leaving  Eve  to  be 
tempted  by  a  great  serpent,  cunningly  contrived  of  green 
and  gold  cloth  in  which  an  actor  is  concealed.  This  mon- 
ster, crawling  upon  the  stage  from  below,  harangues  Eve 
with  lengthy  eloquence.  Then  follows  the  eating  of  the 
apple,  and  the  coming  of  God's  angels,  with  gilt  hair,  scarlet 
robes,  and  swords  waved  and  ridged  like  fire,  to  drive  the 
pair  from  the  garden  into  the  wilderness,  that  is,  into  the 
lower  compartment  of  the  pageant,  which  is  now  uncovered 
to  view. 

A  trumpeter  advances  before  the  car,  and  sounds  a  long 
note  in  token  of  the  conclusion  of  the  play.  The  'prentices 
harness  themselves  to  the  car;  and  it  moves  off  to  the  next 
station,  to  be  replaced  by  others.  These  represent  in  turn, 
Noah's  Flood,  given  by  the  guild  of  water-merchants;  the 
Sacrifice  of  Isaac,  given  by  the  butchers'  guild;  the  Nativ- 
ity, the  Crucifixion,  and  so  on  in  long  procession,  until  the 
crowning  spectacle  of  the  Day  of  Judgment.  The  chief 
feature  of  spectacular  interest  in  this  last  is  Hell-mouth, 
a  great  dragon's  jaw  belching  flame  and  smoke,  into  which 
lost  souls,  dressed  in  black  and  yellow  particolor,  are  tossed 
by  the  Devil — a  most  alarming  personage  with  a  bright  red 
beard,  a  hairy  body,  a  hideous  mask,  horns,  and  a  long 
forked  tail. 

Germs  of  Regular  Drama  in  the  Miracle  Plays. — The 
authors  of  these  Miracle  plays  were  free  to  embellish  the 
biblical  story  with  episodes  drawn  from  the  common  life  of 
their  own  day.  Even  when  these  added  episodes  took  a 
broadly  comic  turn,  nobody  was  shocked,  any  more  than 
by  the  imps  and  monsters  which  grinned  at  them  from  the 
solemn  shadows  of  their  cathedrals.  In  the  play  of  Noah's 
Flood,  the  patriarch  causes  first  the  animals  to  enter  the  Ark, 
then  his  sons  and  daughters-in-law;  but  when  he  comes  to 
his  wife,  she  objects.  She  does  not  relish  being  cooped  up 
without  her  "gossips,"   leaving  these  amiable  women  to 


Origin  of  the  Drama  93 

drown.  Remonstrances  at  last  proving  fruitless,  Noah  re- 
sorts to  the  argument  of  blows,  and  drives  his  scolding  help- 
meet into  the  Ark,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  crowd.  In  the 
play  of  Abraham  and  Isaac,  the  yearning  love  of  the  old  man 
for  his  little  son,  and  the  sweet,  trustful  nature  of  the  boy, 
are  brought  home  to  us  in  such  a  way  as  to  intensify  the 
pathos  of  the  moment  when  Abraham  makes  ready,  at  the 
Lord's  command,  to  sacrifice  the  life  which  is  dearest  to  him 
on  earth.  The  pleading  of  the  boy,  the  gradual  overmastering 
of  his  fear  of  death  by  his  pity  for  his  father's  anguish  and 
his  solicitude  for  his  mother's  grief,  are  rendered  with  touch- 
ing truth. 

"Therfor  do  our  Lordes  bydding, 
And  wan  I  am  ded,  then  prey  for  me; 
But,  good  fader,  tell  ye  my  moder  no-thyng, 
Say  that  I  am  in  another  cunthre  dwellyng." 

In  these  episodes,  and  in  many  others  which  might  be  given, 
lie  the  germs  of  regular  drama.  Such  humorous  scenes  as 
the  quarrel  of  Noah  and  his  wife,  constitute  in  reality  crude 
little  comedies  out  of  which  regular  comedy  could  readily 
grow.  In  such  tragic  scenes  as  the  Sacrifice  of  Isaac,  the 
Slaughter  of  the  Innocents,  and  the  Crucifixion,  the  elements 
of  noble  tragedy  were  already  present. 

The  Morality  Plays. — The  miracle  plays  attempted  to  set 
forth  only  a  part  of  the  teaching  necessary  to  man's  salvation, 
namely  that  part  contained  in  the  history  of  Adam's  fall,  the 
redemption  through  Christ,  and  the  final  Judgment.  This 
dealt  with  matters  of  belief.  To  complete  this  teaching  there 
was  needed  some  treatment  of  the  side  of  religion  which 
deals  with  matters  of  conduct;  and  it  was  this  which  the 
"Morality  plays"  tried  to  supply.  By  means  of  such  per- 
sonifications or  abstractions  as  the  World,  the  Flesh,  Man- 
kind, Mercy,  Justice,  Peace,  the  Seven  Deadly  Sins,  Good 
and  Bad  Angels,  Gluttony,  Covetousness,  Old  Age,  and 
Death,  the  morality  plays  represented  the  conflict  between 
sin  and  righteousness  for  the  possession  of  the  human  soul. 
The  character  of  Vice  played  a  great  part.  He  was  usually 
dressed  in  the  costume  of  a  court  fool,  and  carried  a  sword 


94  The  Renaissance 

of  lath.  His  function  was  to  attend  upon  the  Devil,  and  to 
worry,  trick,  and  belabor  his  master  for  the  amusement  of  the 
crowd.  The  Vice  survived  in  the  fool  of  Shakespeare's  plays, 
though  it  is  hard  to  recognize  him  in  the  philosophical  Touch- 
stone of  As  You  Like  It,  or  the  musical  fool  who  sings  such 
charming  lyrics  in  Twelfth  Night. 

Interludes. — Out  of  the  moralities  arose  a  species  of  play 
known  as  the  Interlude.  The  name  took  its  origin  from  the 
practice  observed  in  the  houses  of  the  great,  of  having  these 
little  dramas  performed  in  the  intervals  of  a  banquet.  In 
the  old  play  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  a  band  of  strolling  players 
is  announced  while  Sir  Thomas  is  dining,  and  they  perform 
an  interlude  before  him  and  his  guests.  Usually  these  pieces 
had  little  action,  and  required  almost  no  stage-setting.  For 
example,  "The  Four  P's,"  of  John  Heywood,  "a  newe  and  a 
very  mery  enterlude  of  a  Palmer,  a  Pardoner,  a  Potycary,  and 
a  Pedlar,"  is  nothing  more  than  an  amusing  series  of  speeches 
by  the  four  impersonators,  in  which  they  vaunt  their  several 
callings,  make  themselves  out  very  arrant  rascals  indeed,  and 
by  so  doing  satirize  the  society  which  they  represent.  The 
Interludes  treat  all  kinds  of  undramatic  subjects,  such  as 
geography,  the  weather,  the  nature  of  the  elements,  in  fact 
all  the  crude  natural  science  of  the  time.  The  stage,  both  at 
this  time  and  later,  largely  took  the  place  of  the  modern  school 
and  newspaper. 

Robin  Hood  Plays  and  Christmas  Plays. — "Robin  Hood 
plays,"  setting  forth  the  merry  adventures  of  Robin  Hood, 
Friar  Tuck,  and  Maid  Marian,  in  Sherwood  Forest,  were  also 
popular ;  and,  all  over  England,  seasons  of  merry-making  were 
enlivened  by  the  performance  of  rude  Christmas  plays,  or 
"mummings,"  in  which  figured  certain  stock  characters, 
such  as  Old  Father  Christmas,  St.  George  and  the  Dragon, 
Old  King  Cole,  and  the  Merry  Andrew.  The  student  will 
find  in  Thomas  Hardy's  Return  of  the  Native  an  account  of 
the  Christmas  mummings  as  they  still  exist,  or  did  exist  until 
recent  years,  in  remote  corners  of  England. 


Classical  Influence  on  Early  Drama        95 


II.    CLASSICAL   INFLUENCE   UPON  THE  EARLY  DRAMA 

Early  Plays  on  Classic  Models. — Owing  to  the  great  re- 
vival of  interest  in  Latin  literature,  which  marked  the  be- 
ginning of  the  Renaissance,  it  became  the  fashion  in  the 
fifteenth  century  to  present  the  Latin  comedies  of  Plautus 
and  Terence  on  the  stages  of  grammar  schools,  with  the 
students  as  actors.  Later,  these  same  plays  began  to  be 
translated,  and  given  in  the  English  tongue ;  and  from  this  it 
was  but  a  step  to  the  composition  of  simple  English  comedies 
on  the  Latin  model.  The  earliest  of  these  were  Ralph  Roister 
Doister,  written  before  1541,  and  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle, 
written  about  1566.  The  main  characters  in  Gammer  Gur- 
ton's Needle  are  studied  from  real  sixteenth  century  peasants, 
and  the  background  of  English  village  life  is  given  with  much 
humor  and  vividness. 

In  tragedy,  Seneca  was  taken  as  a  model.  In  1561,  two 
young  gentlemen  of  the  Inner  Temple,  Thomas  Norton  and 
Thomas  Sackville,  presented  before  Queen  Elizabeth  a  play 
called  Gorboduc,  or  Ferrex  and  Porrex,  to  show  what  could  be 
done  in  handling  a  subject  from  British  legend,  on  the  lines 
laid  down  by  the  Latin  tragedian.  It  is  a  stately  production, 
and  deserves  veneration  as  the  first  regular  tragedy  written 
in  English.  It  had  a  great  influence  upon  the  native  drama, 
just  beginning  to  take  permanent  form. 

Latin  Tragedy  and  Native  English  Tragedy  Contrasted. — 
Latin  tragedy  has  very  little  stage  action;  important  events, 
instead  of  being  directly  represented,  are  merely  reported 
on  the  stage,  by  messengers  or  others.  The  tendency  of 
English  tragedy,  on  the  other  hand,  was  from  the  first  to 
present  everything  bodily  on  the  stage,  even  the  storm- 
ing of  cities,  or  battles  between  great  armies,  where  the 
means  at  the  disposal  of  the  actors  were  often  laughably 
inadequate.  Latin  drama,  again,  is  usually  careful  to  pre- 
serve unity  of  time  and  place,  that  is,  to  make  all  the 
action  pass  in  a  given  locality,  and  to  cover  no  more  than 
the  events  of  a  single  day.  English  playwrights,  on  the  con- 
trary, had  no  hesitation  in  shifting  the  scene  to  half  a  dozen 


96  The  Renaissance 

different  countries  in  the  course  of  a  single  play;  and  they 
thought  nothing  of  introducing  in  the  first  act  a  child  who 
grew  to"  manhood  in  the  second  act,  and  in  the  third  died 
and  handed  on  the  story,  to  be  acted  out  by  his  sons  and 
grandsons  in  the  remainder.  Classic  drama  also  drew  a  very 
sharp  line  between  comedy  and  tragedy,  admitting  no  comic 
element  into  a  serious  play.  The  English  drama,  on  the 
contrary,  from  the  miracle  plays  down,  set  comedy  side  by 
side  with  tragedy ;  it  mingled  the  farcical  with  the  august,  the 
laughable  with  the  pathetic,  as  they  actually  are  mingled 
in  life. 

Good  Effect  of  Classic  Influence  on  the  Drama. — In  the  end, 
the  free  native  form  of  drama  prevailed,  in  spite  of  the  efforts 
of  the  University  "  wits  "  (as  young  men  of  learning  and  clever- 
ness were  then  called)  .to  force  the  Latin  form  upon  the  stage. 
Nevertheless,  the  apprenticeship  of  English  playwrights  to  a 
foreign  master,  brief  and  incomplete  though  it  was,  was  in- 
valuable. It  taught  them  to  impose  some  restraint  upon  the 
riot  of  their  fancy;  it  showed  them  the  beauty  and  artistic 
necessity  of  good  structure ;  in  a  word,  it  brought  form  out  of 
chaos. 


III.     BEGINNING   OF   THE   GREAT   DRAMATIC   PERIOD 

The  Theatre  Becomes  the  Chief  Expression  of  Elizabethan 

Life. — We  now  stand  on  the  threshold  of  that  wonderful 
sixty  years  (i 580-1640)  during  which  the  Elizabethan  drama 
ran  its  magnificent  course.  As  has  been  shown  in  the  last 
chapter,  England  found  herself,  at  the  beginning  of  this 
period,  quickened  by  three  of  the  most  potent  influences 
which  can  affect  the  life  of  a  nation:  widespread  intellectual 
curiosity;  the  beginnings  of  an  intense  religious  ferment; 
and  the  pride  of  suddenly  discovered  national  strength.  The 
young  wits  who  came  up  from  the  Universities  to  London, 
tingling  with  the  imaginative  excitement  of  the  age,  seized 
upon  the  popular  theatre,  as  the  most  vital  form  of  art  then 
existing,  and  the  best  instrument  for  the  expression  of  their 
own  swarming  fancies. 


Elizabethan  Playhouses  and  Actors        97 

Elizabethan  Playhouses  and  Actors. — During  the  youth  of 
the  drama,  the  performance  of  plays  had  been  chiefly  in  the 
hands  of  strolling  companies,  who,  attaching  themselves 
nominally  to  the  household  of  some  great  lord,  and  using  his 
name  to  protect  them,  wandered  about  the  country,  wherever, 
on  village  green,  at  market  fair,  or  in  the  hall  of  some  noble 
house,  they  could  find  an  audience.  But  shortly  before  the 
period  we  are  now  studying,  regular  companies  had  begun  to 
establish  themselves  in  the  suburbs  of  London,  and  to  erect 
permanent  theatres.  The  first  of  these  playhouses,  known 
simply  as  "The  Theatre,"  was  built  in  Finsbury  Fields,  to 
the  north  of  the  city,  by  James  Burbage,  in  1576.  It  was  at 
this  play-house  that  Shakespeare  first  found  employment. 
Burbage's  company,  on  the  destruction  of  The  Theatre, 
built  the  Globe,  on  ,  the  south  bank  of  the  Thames ;  and 
here,  on  the  Bankside,  other  places  of  theatrical  entertainment 
rapidly  sprang  up.  After  a  time  the  actors  became  bold 
enough  to  push  into  the  city  itself.  Burbage  built  the  Black- 
friars,  as  a  winter  theatre.  A  rival  company  built  the  For- 
tune, also  in  the  city  limits.  By  the  end  of  the  century, 
eleven  theatres  existed  in  the  city,  and  in  the  free  lands  or 
"liberties"  adjoining. 

Performances  usually  took  place  at  three  in  the  afternoon, 
and  were  announced  by  the  hanging  out  of  a  flag  and  the 
blowing  of  trumpets.  The  theatres  were  round,  square,  or 
octagonal  structures,  unroofed  except  for  a  shed  or  canopy 
over  the  stage.  The  winter  theatres,  such  as  the  Blackfriars, 
were  entirely  roofed  in.  The  stage  extended  out  into  the 
body  of  the  house,  was  open  on  three  sides,  and  was  sufficiently 
elevated  so  that  the  main  bulk  of  the  audience,  standing  on 
the  bare  ground  which  formed  the  floor  or  pit  of  the  theatre, 
could  have  a  fair  view.  Persons  who  could  afford  to  pay  a 
higher  price  than  the  "groundlings,"  took  advantage  of  the 
boxes  built  round  the  pit.  Young  gallants,  for  an  extra 
fee,  could  have  seats  upon  the  stage  itself,  where  they  smoked 
their  pipes,  peeled  oranges,  cracked  nuts,  and  often  interfered 
with  the  performance  by  chaffing  a  poor  actor,  or  by  flirting 
ostentatiously  with  the  fair  occupant  of  a  neighboring  box. 
In  accordance  with  the  luxurious  taste  of  the  age  in  dress, 


98  The  Renaissance 

the  costumes  of  the  actors  were  often  very  rich.  All  women's 
parts  were  played  by  boys ;  actresses  were  not  seen  in  England 
until  after  the  Restoration.  The  stage-setting  was  of  the 
simplest,  a  change  of  scene  being  indicated  often  merely  by 
a  placard,  or  at  most  by  a  roughly  painted  piece  of  paste- 
board and  a  few  stage  properties.  A  tree  and  a  bench  did 
duty  for  a  garden ;  a  wooden  cannon  and  a  paste-board  tower 
indicated  a  siege.  This  meagreness  of  stage-setting,  so  far 
from  being  a  misfortune,  was  in  no  small  measure  responsible 
for  the  literary  greatness  of  the  Elizabethan  drama;  for  it 
threw  the  dramatist  back  upon  vivid  poetic  expression,  as  the 
only  means  of  stimulating  the  imagination  of  his  audience. 
The  Pre -Shakespearean  Playwrights. — The  group  of  young 
dramatists  which  sprang  up  to  supply  the  demand  made  by 
the  early  stage  included  Robert  Greene,  George  Peele,  John 
Lyly,  Thomas  Kyd,  Thomas  Dekker,  Thomas  Nash,  and 
Christopher  Marlowe.  Of  these  Marlowe  stands  as  undis- 
puted leader.  He  is  the  true  founder  of  the  popular  English 
drama,  though  himself  an  outgrowth  of  the  long  period  of 
preparation  which  we  have  been  studying. 

IV.    CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE:    1564-1593 

Marlowe's  Life. — Marlowe,  the  son  of  a  shoemaker  in 
the  old  cathedral  town  of  Canterbury,  was  born  in  1564,  two 
months  before  Shakespeare.  He  was  sent  to  Cambridge 
by  a  patron,  who  had  noticed  his  quick  parts.  He  graduated 
at  nineteen;  and  four  years  later  (1587)  he  astonished  Lon- 
don with  his  first  play,  Tamburlaine,  which  he  brought  out 
with  the  Lord  Admiral's  Men,  the  rival  company  to  the 
Lord  Chamberlain's  Men,  whom  Shakespeare  had  joined  a 
short  time  before.  During  the  six  years  which  intervened 
between  the  production  of  Tamburlaine  and  his  death,  Mar- 
lowe brought  out  three  more  plays,  Doctor  Faustus,  The 
Jew  0}  Malta,  and  Edward  II.  He  was  killed  in  1593,  in  a 
tavern-brawl,  at  Deptford,  whither  he  had  gone  to  take 
refuge  from  the  plague  then  devastating  London. 

Marlowe's  "Programme."  —  In  the  brief  and  haughty 
prologue  prefixed  to   Tamburlaine,  Marlowe  not  only  an- 


Christopher  Marlowe  99 

flounced  clearly  the  character  of  that  play,  but  hinted  at  the 
programme  which  he  proposed  to  carry  out  in  the  future: 

"From  jigging  veins  of  rhyming  mother  wits 
And  such  conceits  as  clownage  keeps  in  pay, 
We'll  lead  you  to  the  stately  tents  of  war 
Where  you  shall  hear  the  Scythian  Tamburlaine 
Threatening  the  world  with  high  astounding  terms 
And  scourging  kingdoms  with  his  conquering  sword." 

The  "jigging  veins  of  rhyming  mother  wits,"  is  a  sneer  at 
the  use  of  rhyme  and  awkward  tumbling  lines  of  fourteen 
syllables,  which  was  customary  with  the  popular  playwrights 
of  the  time.  For  this  "jigging  vein"  he  proposes  to  sub- 
stitute blank  verse,  which,  though  it  had  been  employed 
previously  by  Sackville  and  Norton,  in  Gorboduc,  had  not 
established  itself.  It  is  a  sign  of  Marlowe's  artistic  insight 
that  he  should  have  recognized  at  once  the  value  of  blank 
verse  for  dramatic  poetry ;  and  we  can  see,  beneath  the  sur- 
face of  his  words,  a  proud  consciousness  of  his  own  power 
over  this  almost  untried  form  of  verse.  Out  of  it  he  built 
that  "mighty  line,"  which  astounded  and  fascinated  his 
contemporaries ;  and  his  success  with  it  fixed  it  firmly  hence- 
forth as  the  vehicle  of  serious  drama.  By  his  sneer  at  the 
"conceits"  that  "clownage  keeps  in  pay,"  Marlowe  showed 
his  determination  not  to  pander  to  the  pit  by  means  of  vulgar 
comedy  and  horse-play,  but  to  treat  an  elevated  theme  with 
seriousness.  By  the  "stately  tents  of  war,"  to  which  he  prom- 
ises to  lead  his  hearer,  he  typified  the  dignity  and  largeness 
of  scope  which  he  proposed  to  give  to  all  his  work.  By  the 
last  three  lines  of  the  prologue,  he  foreshadowed  his  plan  of 
giving  unity  to  his  dramas,  by  making  them  revolve  around 
some  single  great  personality,  engaged  in  some  titanic  struggle 
for  power;  and  likewise  of  treating  this  struggle  with  the 
rhetorical  splendor,  the  "high  astounding  terms,"  without 
which  Elizabethan  tragedy  is  now  inconceivable.  This  pro- 
gramme he  carried  out  in  the  main  with  consistency. 

Marlowe's    Plays:    "Tamburlaine." — Tamburlaine    is    a 
pure  "hero-play."     The  hero  is  a  Scythian  shepherd,  who 


100  The  Renaissance 

conquers,  one  after  another,  the  kingdoms  of  the  East, 
forcing  kings  to  harness  themselves  to  his  chariot,  and  car- 
rying with  him  a  great  cage  in  which  a  captive  emperor  is 
kept  like  a  wild  beast.  The  huge  barbaric  figure  of  Tam- 
burlaine  is  always  before  our  eyes,  and  the  action  of  the  play 
is  only  a  series  of  his  triumphs.  His  character,  half-bestial, 
half-godlike,  dominates  the  imagination  like  an  elemental 
force  of  nature,  and  lends  itself  admirably  to  those  "high 
astounding  terms,"  which  fill  whole  pages  of  the  play  with 
thunderous  monologue. 

"Doctor  Faustus." — Doctor  Faustus,  Marlowe's  second 
work,  is  also  a  hero-play,  and  is  cast  on  even  larger  hues.  It 
is  a  dramatized  story  of  the  life  and  death  of  a  mediaeval 
scholar,  who  sells  his  soul  to  the  devil,  in  return  for  a  life  of 
unlimited  power  and  pleasure.  For  a  space  of  years,  he  has 
at  his  command  all  the  resources  of  infernal  magic.  He  can 
transport  himself  in  a  twinkling  from  one  region  of  the  earth 
to  another ;  himself  unseen,  he  can  play  pranks  in  the  palaces 
of  popes  and  emperors;  he  can  summon  up  the  ancient  dead 
to  minister  to  his  delight.  But  at  last  the  fearful  price  is 
demanded,  and  he  must  render  up  his  soul  to  everlasting 
torment.  The  play,  as  it  has  come  down  to  us,  is  disfigured 
by  comic  passages  of  a  coarse  and  tasteless  sort,  those  very 
"conceits  of  clownage"  which  Marlowe  had  formerly  de- 
clared war  against.  But  even  where  the  workmanship  is 
poor  there  is  always  something  imposing  in  the  design ;  and 
certain  passages  have  hardly  been  surpassed  for  power  and 
beauty.  When  Mephistopheles  raises  from  the  dead  the 
spirit  of  Helen  of  Troy,  Faustus  utters  one  rapturous  excla- 
mation, 

"Was  this  the  face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships 
And  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilion?" 

And  on  his  death-bed  he  starts  up  with  the  cry, 

"Lo,  where  Christ's  blood  streams  in  the  firmamentl" 

— three  lines  which  would  alone  serve  to  stamp  Marlowe  as 
of  the  company  of  imperial  poets. 


Christopher  Marlowe     •  101 

"  The  Jew  of  Malta  "  and  "  Edward  II." — Marlowe's 
third  play,  "The  Jew  of  Malta,"  is  again  a  study  of  the  lust 
of  power — this  time  the  power  bestowed  by  great  riches. 
Barabbas,  the  old  Jewish  merchant  of  Malta,  is  the  first  vig- 
orous sketch  of  which  Shakespeare  was  to  make  in  Shylock  a 
finished  masterpiece.  The  first  two  acts  are  conceived  on  a 
large  scale,  and  carefully  worked  out;  but  after  these  Mar- 
lowe seems  again  to  have  fallen  from  his  own  ideal,  and  the 
play  degenerates  into  melodrama  of  the  goriest  kind.  Never- 
theless it  shows  a  remarkable  advance  over  Tamburlaine  and 
Doctor  Faustus,  in  the  knitting  together  of  cause  and  effect. 
Marlowe's  growth  in  dramatic  skill  is  even  more  apparent  in 
his  last  play,  Edward  II.  This  is  his  masterpiece,  so  far  as 
play-making  goes,  though  for  the  very  reason  that  it  discards 
rhetorical  monologue  for  rapid  dramatic  dialogue,  it  contains 
fewer  passages  of  pure  poetry  than  any  of  the  others. 

Marlowe  a  Type  of  the  English  Renaissance. — Marlowe  is 
one  of  the  most  striking  figures  of  the  English  Renaissance. 
He  represents  the  Renaissance  passion  for  life,  grasping 
after  the  infinite  in  power,  in  knowledge,  and  in  pleasure. 
There  is  something  in  the  meteor-like  suddenness  of  his 
appearance  in  the  skies  of  poetry,  and  in  the  swift  flaming 
of  his  genius  through  its  course,  which  seems  to  make  inev- 
itable his  violent  end.  When  he  died,  at  twenty-nine,  he  was 
probably  only  upon  the  threshold  of  his  achievement ;  but  he 
had  already  laid  broad  and  deep  the  foundation  of  English 
drama,  and  Shakespeare  was  already  at  work  rearing  upon 
this  foundation  an  incomparable  edifice. 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— The  drama  was  the  greatest  and  the  most 
popular  literary  form  of  the  Elizabethan  age.  But  before  it  came 
to  full  flower  in  the  work  of  Shakespeare  and  his  fellow-dramatists 
it  had  to  go  through  a  long  process  of  growth.  In  this  chapter  we 
go  back  to  the  earliest  beginnings  of  the  drama  in  England,  and  trace 
its  origin  from  forms  of  entertainment  and  religious  ceremonies  only 
rudely  dramatic  in  character.  We  then  follow  its  development  through 
the  Miracle  play,  the  Morality  play,  and  the  Interlude,  to  the  time 
when  the  English  drama  put  itself  ta  school,  during  the  middle  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  to  Latin  comedy  and  tragedy.     By  following 


102  The  Renaissance 

classic  models  for  a  time,  it  became  better  organized,  but  it  remained 
"romantic"  in  form  and  spirit,  as  it  had  been  from  the  first.  The  pre- 
Shakespearean  drama  culminates  in  Marlowe,  who  marks  the  close  of 
the  period  of  preparation,  and  the  beginning  of  the  great  dramatic 
period,  at  the  end  of  Elizabeth's  reign. 

How  did  the  ceremonial  life  of  the  Norman  and  Plantagenet  kings 
contribute  to  the  development  of  the  early  drama  ?  Keep  in  mind  the 
connection  between  these  ceremonial  shows  and  the  spectacular  and 
lyric  form  of  drama  known  as  the  Masque,  which  we  shall  study  in  the 
next  chapter  in  the  work  of  Shakespeare's  friend  and  rival,  Ben  Jonson. 
Trace  the  development  of  the  Miracle  play,  from  its  earliest  and  simp- 
lest form  as  a  part  of  the  Catholic  church  service,  to  its  culmination  in 
the  great  Miracle-cycles.  How  did  these  plays  come  to  be  given  in 
cycles  ?  Summarize  the  chief  facts  concerning  the  manner  in  which 
the  Miracle-cycles  were  presented,  under  a  number  of  heads,  such  as 
Actors,  Costumes,  The  Pageants,  Stage  Arrangements,  The  Audience, 
etc.  Do  you  notice  a  humorous  fitness  in  the  assignment  of  the 
separate  plays  to  particular  guilds?  The  Miracle  plays  contained 
the  germs  of  regular  comedy  and  tragedy;  note,  however,  that  the 
comic  element  was  introduced  by  the  authors,  to  lighten  the  tone,  but 
that  the  tragic  element  existed  in  the  Bible  stories  themselves.  Illus- 
trate this  from  the  instances  given.  How  did  the  Morality  plays 
supplement  the  Miracle  plays  ?  What  stock-character  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  is  a  survival  from  the  Moralities?  Why  were  the  Interludes  so 
called  ?    What  subjects  did  they  treat  ? 

Describe  the  influence  of  the  schools,  and  the  enthusiasm  for  classic 
studies,  upon  the  English  drama  during  its  formative  period.  Name  the 
two  earliest  English  comedies  and  the  earliest  tragedy  written  under 
the  classical  influence.  What  were  the  chief  differences  between  the 
Latin  and  the  native  English  form  of  tragedy?  Most  of  these  differences 
arose  from  one  circumstance,  that  the  classic  dramatists  were  content 
to  treat  a  single  episode,  whereas  the  English  dramatists  who  were 
"romantic"  in  feeling  were  eager  to  present  a  whole  story  made  up  of 
many  incidents.  Would  it  have  been  possible  for  Shakespeare  to 
present  the  history  of  Julius  Caesar  or  of  King  Lear  in  "classic"  form? 
What  did  Shakespeare  think  of  the  inclusion  of  humorous  and  tragic 
matters  in  the  same  play?  What  beneficial  influences  came  from  the 
struggle  to  impose  classic  forms  on  English  playwrights? 

Between  what  dates  did  the  Elizabethan  drama  flourish  ?    (The  term 


Review  Outline  103 

"Elizabethan  drama"  is  used  somewhat  loosely.  It  did  not  begin  in 
earnest  until  Elizabeth,  who  was  crowned  in  1558,  had  been  on  the 
throne  for  almost  a  quarter  of  a  century;  and  it  continued  under  James 
and  Charles  for  about  thirty-five  years  after  her  death.  Thelater  drama 
is  sometimes  called  Jacobean,  from  Jacobus,  [James],  but  the  term 
Elizabethan  is  generally  used  to  cover  the  whole.)  Review  what  is 
told  in  Chapter  V  concerning  the  political  and  social  conditions  of 
Elizabeth's  reign,  in  order  to  understand  the  high  excitement  of  the 
English  nation  at  this  time,  and  the  brilliant  life  which  found  ex- 
pression in  the  drama.  Summarize  the  chief  facts  concerning  the  early 
theatres  and  theatrical  companies;  concerning  the  manner  in  which 
Elizabethan  plays  were  presented.  In  what  poet  did  the  long  process 
of  dramatic  development  reach  a  point  of  comparative  completion? 

Give  a  brief  sketch  of  Marlowe's  life.  Note  carefully  the  reforms  which 
Marlowe  proposed  to  carry  out  in  play-writing— in  verse-form,  in  rhet- 
oric, in  the  kind  of  themes  treated,  and  in  the  unifying  of  these  themes 
by  a  single  personality.  Who  had  introduced  "blank  verse"  into 
England  ?  Where  had  it  been  already  used  in  drama  ?  What  was  the 
effect  of  Marlowe's  example  in  the  use  of  blank  verse?  Show  how 
Marlowe's  first  three  plays  illustrate,  each  in  its  own  way,  the  interest 
of  the  Renaissance  in  individual  man  and  his  thirst  for  conquest. 

READING  GUIDE.— Little  reading  of  texts  can  be  expected  of 
the  student  in  the  pre-Shakespearean  drama.  If  time  serve,  Marlowe's 
"Edward  II."  or  "The  Jew  of  Malta"  should  be  read.  "The  Jew  of 
Malta,"  arranged  for  school  use,  is  included  in  Maynard's  English 
Classics.  "Edward  II."  is  edited  by  A.  W.  Verity  (Dent).  The  in- 
terest of  the  class  work,  if  students  are  sufficiently  advanced,  may  be 
much  heightened  by  volunteer  reports  upon  such  subjects  as  "The 
Mounting  and  Acting  of  Miracle  Plays,"  "The  Early  Elizabethan 
Theatres."  Materials  for  the  first  may  be  found  in  the  introduction 
to  A.  W.  Pollard's  "English  Miracle  Plays,"  and  in  K.  L.  Bates's  "Eng- 
lish Religious  Drama";  for  the  second,  in  "Shakespeare's  Predecessors," 
by  J.  A.  Symonds.  The  study  of  Marlowe  may  be  supplemented  by 
Lowell's  essay  upon  him,  in  "The  Old  English  Dramatists." 


104 


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CHAPTER    VII 
SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  FELLOW-DRAMATISTS 

I.    WILLIAM   SHAKESPEARE:    1564-1616 

Shakespeare's  Early  Life. — William  Shakespeare  was  bom 
on  or  about  the  23rd  of  April,  1564,  in  the  village  of  Stratford. 
He  was  the  third  child  of  John  Shakespeare  and  Mary  Arden. 
His  mother  was  of  gentle  blood,  and  was  possessed  of  some 
wealth  by  inheritance.  His  father,  though  a  man  of  con- 
sideration in  the  village,  was  of  lower  station,  a  tanner  and 
glover  by  trade.  Until  the  age  of  fourteen  the  boy  attended 
the  Stratford  grammar  school,  where  he  picked  up  the  "small 
Latin  and  less  Greek,"  to  which  his  learned  friend  Ben 
Jonson  rather  scornfully  refers.  The  better  part  of  his  edu- 
cation, a  wonderfully  deep  and  sure  insight  into  Nature,  and 
a  wide  acquaintance  with  the  folk-lore  of  his  native  dis- 
trict, he  doubtless  began  to  acquire  in  boyhood,  by  rambles 
through  the  meadows  and  along  the  streams  of  Warwick- 
shire, and  by  converse  with  the  simple  folk  of  the  country 
side.  Only  a  few  miles  away  was  the  picturesque  town  of 
Warwick,  with  its  magnificent  castle,  to  set  him  dreaming  of 
the  past.  Within  an  easy  day's  walk  lay  Kenilworth  Castle, 
the  seat  of  Elizabeth's  favorite,  Leicester;  and  the  historic 
town  of  Coventry,  where  one  might  still  see  miracle  plays 
performed  on  certain  festival  days.  Travelling  companies 
of  actors  visited  Stratford  two  or  three  times  a  year,  and  had 
to  apply  to  Shakespeare's  father,  who  was  at  that  time  a  vil- 
lage official,  for  leave  to  play.  At  their  performances  young 
Shakespeare  was  doubtless  sometimes  present,  drinking  in 
his  first  impressions  of  the  fascinating  world  of  the  stage. 

About  1578  the  fortunes  of  his  father  began  to  decline, 
and  Shakespeare  was  withdrawn  from  school.  In  spite  of 
the  rapidly  failing  prosperity  of  the  family,  he  was  married 

106 


Copyright,  1890,  by  Frederick  Keppel  &  Co. 

WILLIAM   SHAKESPEARE 

From  the  Chandos  portrait 


108  The  Renaissance 

at  eighteen  to  Ann  Hathaway,  a  young  woman  eight  3'ears 
his  senior,  the  daughter  of  a  peasant  family  of  Shottery, 
near  Stratford.  Some  time  between  1585  and  1587,  he  left 
Stratford  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  capital,  and  until  the  close 
of  his  life  he  returned  to  his  native  town  only  at  intervals. 
The  immediate  cause  of  his  leaving  is  said  by  doubtful  tradi- 
tion to  have  been  the  anger  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  a  local 
magnate,  over  a  deer-stealing  prank  in  which  Shakespeare 
and  other  wild  young  blades  of  the  village  had  engaged. 

Shakespeare  in  London. — Outside  the  walls  of  London  to 
the  north,  not  far  from  where  the  road  from  Shakespeare's 
country  entered  the  suburbs  of  the  capital,  stood  The  Theatre, 
one  of  two  or  three  play  houses  which  London  then  boasted. 
It  had  at  the  head  of  its  company  the  famous  actor  James 
Burbage.  Tradition  says  that  the  youthful  Shakespeare, 
on  first  coming  to  London,  picked  up  a  living  by  holding 
horses  at  the  doors  of  The  Theatre.  Whether  this  is  true  or 
not,  he  soon  found  himself  connected  with  Burbage's  com- 
pany, as  actor  and  as  retoucher  of  old  plays.  He  continued 
with  Burbage's  company,  as  actor,  playwright,  and  stock- 
holder, when  the  Theatre  was  pulled  down,  and  rebuilt  as 
the  Globe  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Thames. 

Of  the  external  facts  of  Shakespeare's  life  in  London  we 
know  few.  Early  in  his  career  he  was  attacked  by  Robert 
Greene,  who,  in  a  deathbed  exhortation  to  Marlowe,  Peele, 
and  others,  called  him  "an  upstart  crow  beautified  with  our 
feathers,  that  supposes  he  is  as  well  able  to  bombast  out  a 
blank  verse  as  the  rest  of  us."  The  publishers  of  Greene's 
pamphlet  afterward  printed  a  formal  apology,  testifying  to 
young  Shakespeare's  worth  and  amiability.  We  know  of 
his  friendship  with  William  Herbert,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  and 
with  the  Earl  of  Southampton;  of  his  friendly  rivalry,  in 
art  and  talk,  with  "rare  Ben  Jonson,"  the  second  dramatist 
of  the  age;  of  his  careful  conduct  of  his  business  affairs, 
and  of  his  popularity  as  a  playwright.  Except  for  these  few 
gleams  of  light,  his  external  life  is  wrapped  in  mystery;  and 
the  very  breadth  and  dramatic  greatness  of  his  plays  prevent 
us  from  drawing  from  them  any  but  the  broadest  inferences 
concerning  his  personal  history. 


William  Shakespeare  109 

Shakespeare's  Return  to  Stratford :  His  Death. — The  foun- 
dation of  Shakespeare's  modest  fortune  is  thought  to  have 
been  laid  by  a  gift  from  his  friend  and  patron,  the  young  Earl 
of  Southampton,  to  whom  he  dedicated  his  youthful  poems, 
"Venus  and  Adonis"  and  "Lucrece";  but  it  was  mainly  by 
his  earnings  at  the  Globe  and  Blackfriars'  theatres  that  he 
was  able  to  reinstate  his  parents  in  their  old  position  of 
comfort,  as  well  as  to  gain  for  himself  a  patent  of  gentility, 
and  the  possession  of  the  best  homestead  in  his  native  vil- 
lage, with  broad  acres  of  land  to  add  to  its  dignity.  Hither, 
at  the  age  of  fifty,  he  retired,  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his 
life  in  country  quietude,  with  his  wife  and  his  unmarried 
daughter  Judith.  He  died  in  1616,  at  the  age  of  fifty-two; 
and  was  buried  in  the  old  church  by  the  Avon,  where  thou- 
sands of  pilgrims  now  go  each  year  to  read  the  words  on  his 
tomb  beseeching  men  to  let  his  dust  lie  quiet  in  its  grave. 

The  Period  of  Experiment. — Shakespeare  began  his  dra- 
matic work  by  retouching  old  plays,  and  by  a  number  of  ex- 
periments which  show  how  eagerly  interested  he  was  in  the 
literary  fashions  of  the  time.  One  of  these  early  ventures, 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,  sprang  from  his  interest  in  the  fan- 
ciful, artificial  language  then  in  vogue  at  Elizabeth's  court 
and  among  the  young  fashionables  of  London.  In  another, 
The  Comedy  of  Errors,  he  joins  the  classical  enthusiasts, 
taking  his  plot  from  a  Latin  comedy  of  Plautus.  A  third,  the 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  is  a  dramatized  romance,  adapted 
freely  from  one  of  the  popular  love-romances  of  his  day. 

The  Earliest  Masterpieces. — Shakespeare's  time  of  experi- 
ment and  probation  was  now  over.  The  two  plays  which  he 
next  produced — A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  and  Romeo 
and  Juliet — were,  it  is  true,  experimental,  in  the  sense  that 
they  enter  realms  before  unknown  to  drama ;  but  both  in  con- 
ception and  execution  they  are  finished  masterpieces.  The 
first  of  these  plays  is  thought  to  have  been  written  in  1 593 ; 
the  second,  though  it  did  not  receive  its  final  form  until  1 596 
or  1597,  was  probably  produced  before  the  poet's  thirtieth 
year. 

"A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream." — A  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream  is  thought  to  have  been  written  for  some  nobleman's 


110  The  Renaissance 

marriage-festival,  to  take  the  place  of  the  masque  or  alle- 
gorical pageant  usual  upon  such  occasions.  Theseus,  duke 
of  Athens,  and  his  bride  Hippolita,  in  whose  lofty  figures  the 
noble  bridal  pair  are  perhaps  shadowed  forth,  represent  the 
sentiment  of  love  in  its  serene  and  dignified  mood.  About 
this  central  pair  revolve  three  other  groups,  representing 
love  in  its  fanciful  and  burlesque  aspects.  The  first  group 
is  made  up  of  the  Athenian  youths  and  maidens  astray 
in  the  moonlight  woods,  loving  at  cross  purposes,  and  played 
upon  by  Puck  with  a  magic  liquor,  which  adds  confusion 
to  confusion  in  their  hearts.  The  second  group  consists  of 
the  fairy-queen  Titania  and  her  lord  Oberon ;  and  here  the 
treatment  of  the  love  theme  becomes  deliriously  satiric,  as 
it  depicts  the  passion  of  the  dainty  queen  for  fhe  peasant 
Bottom  transformed  into  an  ass.  In  the  third  group,  that 
of  the  journeymen  actors  who  present  the  "tedious  brief 
scene  of  young  Pyramus  and  his  love  Thisbe:  very  tragical 
mirth,"  the  love-theme  is  modulated  into  the  most  absurd 
burlesque.  Then,  poured  over  all,  holding  these  diverse 
elements  in  unity,  is  the  atmosphere  of  midsummer  moon- 
light, and  the  aerial  poetry  of  the  fairy  world. 

"  Romeo  and  Juliet." — A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  like 
the  plays  which  preceded  it,  treats  of  love  in  a  light  and  fanci- 
ful way,  never  more  than  half  in  earnest.  In  Romeo  and 
Juliet  love  ceases  to  be  a  mere  sentiment,  to  be  played  with 
and  jested  over ;  it  becomes  a  passion,  tragical  with  the  issues 
of  life  and  death.  Here  for  the  first  time  Shakespeare  was 
really  in  earnest.  The  two  young  lives  are  caught  in  a  fiery 
whirlwind,  which  sweeps  them  through  the  rapturous  hours 
of  their  new  love,  to  their  death  together  in  the  tomb  of 
Juliet's  ancestors.  The  action,  instead  of  being  spread  over 
months,  as  in  the  poem  from  which  Shakespeare  took  the  plot, 
is  crowded  into  five  days ;  and  from  the  first  meeting  of  the 
lovers  until  the  end,  a  sense  of  hurry,  now  ecstatic,  now  des- 
perate, keeps  the  passion  mounting  in  a  swift  crescendo.  Not 
only  is  the  play  great  as  a  "tragedy  of  fate"  in  the  Greek 
sense,  but  in  the  drawing  of  character  the  poet  now  for  the 
first  time  works  with  unerring  deftness  and  power.  The 
vulgar,  kind-hearted  nurse,  the  witty,  hair-brained  Mercutio, 


William  Shakespeare  111 

the  vacillating  yet  stubborn  Capulet,  the  lovers  themselves, 
so  different  in  the  manner  of  their  love,  all  these  and  a  dozen 
minor  figures  have  the  very  hue  and  gesture  of  life. 

The  Historical  Plays. — Shakespeare  now,  at  thirty  years  of 
age,  proceeded  to  throw  into  dramatic  form  the  rough  masses 
of  English  history  which  he  found  in  the  chronicles  of 
Holinshed.  One  of  his  youthful  efforts,  the  blood-thirsty 
melodrama,  Titus  Andronicus,  had  been  written  in  imita- 
tion of  Marlowe ;  now,  in  Richard  III.,  again  working  under 
Marlowe's  influence,  he  produced  a  portrait  of  elemental 
energy  and  evil  pride,  which  the  creator  of  Tamburlaine 
and  Faustus  might  have  mistaken  for  his  own  handi- 
work. This  he  followed  up  with  King  John,  famous  for 
the  tenderly  drawn  and  touching  figure  of  the  little  Prince, 
Arthur ;  it  has  been  thought  that  in  writing  the  moving  pas- 
sages where  Arthur  begs  for  his  life,  Shakespeare  perhaps 
had  in  mind  his  own  son  Hamnet,  who  had  just  died  at  the 
age  of  eleven.  In  the  three  connected  plays,  Richard  II., 
Henry  IV.  (in  two  parts),  and  Henry  V.,  Shakespeare  gave 
a  broad  picture  of  English  history  during  one  of  its  most 
critical  periods,  when  feudalism  was  passing  away,  and  the 
idea  of  nationality  was  taking  its  place. 

"Henry  rv."  and  "Henry  V." — In  planning  Henry  TV. 
Shakespeare  hit  upon  the  admirable  notion  of  interspersing 
the  historic  matter  with  scenes  from  the  London  tavern  life 
of  his  own  day — a  life  full  of  racy  humor  fitted  to  afford  the 
desired  comic  relief.  As  the  presiding  genius  of  the  tavern 
world,  he  created  Falstaff,  the  fat  old  knight  who  helps  Prince 
Hal  (afterward  King  Henry  V.)  to  sow  his  wild  oats.  The 
immortal  figure  of  Falstaff  holds  the  prime  place  among  the 
creations  of  Shakespeare's  humor,  as  royally  as  Hamlet  holds 
his  "intellectual  throne."  In  Henry  V .  we  see  Shakespeare 
in  a  new  and  very  charming  light ;  it  is,  indeed,  hardly  a  figure 
of  speech  to  say  that  we  see  the  poet — for  in  this  play,  as  no- 
where else  in  his  dramas,  does  he  speak  with  the  voice  of 
personal  enthusiasm.  The  manly,  open  character  of  the 
king,  and  his  splendid  victories  over  the  French,  made  him  a 
kind  of  symbol  of  England's  greatness,  both  in  character 
and  in  achievement.    The  poet  transfers  to  the  battle  of 


112  The  Renaissance 

Agincourt  the  national  pride  which  had  been  kindled  by 
the  defeat  of  the  Armada,  and  makes  his  play  a  great  paean 
of  praise  for  the  island  kingdom.  In  the  "choruses"  intro- 
ducing the  several  acts,  and  even  in  the  speeches  of  the  char- 
acters themselves,  he  utters  in  lyric  strophes  an  overwhelming 
patriotic  emotion. 

"  The  Merchant  of  Venice"  and  the  "Joyous  Comedies." — 
At  this  time  Shakespeare  seems,  if  we  are  justified  in  guessing 
his  personal  mood  from  the  mood  of  his  work,  to  have  passed 
through  a  period  of  unbroken  serenity  and  high  spirits.  At 
any  rate,  the  fruit  of  these  years  was  a  succession  of  joyous 
comedies,  touched  with  the  golden  light  of  love  and  romance. 
Even  while  writing  the  histories,  he  had  found  time  to  write 
The  Merchant  of  Venice.  Here,  in  the  person  of  Portia, 
he  drew  his  second  great  portrait  of  a  woman.  Portia  is  an 
elder  sister  of  Juliet,  less  vehement,  with  a  larger  experience 
of  life,  a  stronger  and  more  practised  intellect.  The  grave 
and  noble  character  of  Antonio  shows  the  growing  serious- 
ness of  the  poet's  mind.  The  retribution  which  overtakes  the 
cruel  usurer,  Shylock,  and  the  moral  beauty  of  Portia's  famous 
speech  concerning  "the  quality  of  mercy"  indicate  also  the 
ripening  of  Shakespeare's  moral  sense.  Even  the  music  of 
the  verse  shows  a  greater  breadth,  a  more  quiet  strength, 
than  are  to  be  found  in  the  poet's  earlier  work. 

In  the  three  comedies  which  now  followed,  Shakespeare 
drew  three  other  wonderful  female  portraits,  Beatrice  of 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing,  Rosalind  of  A s  You  Like  It, 
and  Viola  of  Twelfth  Night.  And,  grouped  around  them, 
what  a  holiday  company  of  delightful  figures! — Benedick, 
"the  married  man,"  trying  in  vain  to  parry  the  thrusts  of 
Beatrice's  nimble  wit ;  the  philosophical  Touchstone,  shaking 
his  head  over  the  country  wench  Audrey,  because  the  gods 
have  not  made  her  poetical ;  the  meditative  Jacques  (a  first 
faint  sketch,  it  has  been  said,  of  Hamlet),  with  his  melancholy 
"compounded  of  many  simples" ;  Sir  Toby  Belch,  champion 
of  the  ancient  doctrine  of  cakes  and  ale,  and  ginger  hot  in  the 
mouth;  the  solemn  prig  and  egotist  Malvolio,  smirking  and 
pointing  at  his  cross-garters;  Maria,  "youngest  wren  of 
nine";  and  the  clown  Feste,  with  his  marvellous,  haunting 


William  Shakespeare  113 

songs.  All  these  ancl  dozens  more  move  here  in  a  kaleido- 
scope of  intense  life,  flooded  with  an  indescribable  poetic 
radiance. 

The  "Period  of  Gloom"  :  the  Sonnets. — These  three  com- 
edies were  written  between  1598  and  1601,  that  is  between 
the  poet's  thirty-fourth  and  his  thirty-seventh  year.  The 
last  of  them,  Twelfth  Night,  has  been  called  his  "farewell 
to  mirth."  What  happened  to  him  at  this  time,  or  whether 
anything  tangible  happened,  we  shall  never  know.  Certain 
it  is,  however,  that  in  several  tragedies  of  titanic  size,  and  in 
two  so-called  comedies,  almost  more  bitter  and  gloomy  than 
the  tragedies,  he  sounded  one  after  another  the  depths  of 
human  baseness,  sin,  and  suffering.  The  only  hint  that  we 
have  of  the  nature  of  that  valley  and  shadow  through  which 
Shakespeare  seems  to  have  passed,  is  found  in  his  "Sonnets." 
They  are  addressed  to  "a  man  right  fair"  and  "a  woman 
colored  ill."  What  the  exact  relations  were  between  the 
three  can  only  be  guessed  at.  It  has  been  conjectured 
that  the  "Dark  Lady"  of  the  Sonnets  was  the  evil  genius 
of  Shakespeare's  life,  and  that  to  her  was  chiefly  due  the 
change  in  his  spirit  and  in  his  art.  Of  course  no  such 
personal  explanation  of  this  change  is  needed.  The  poet's 
sympathy  was  so  all-embracing,  and  his  outlook  on  life  so 
broad,  that  the  darker  aspects  of  human  character  and  destiny 
had  sooner  or  later,  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  to  absorb 
his  attention.  Whatever  may  be  their  personal  bearing, 
however,  the  Sonnets  are  of  inexhaustible  interest,  for  the 
subtlety  and  depth  of  their  thought,  and  for  the  curious 
mixture  of  oddity  and  artificiality,  with  transcendent  beauty 
and  power,  in  their  expression.  If  Shakespeare  had  written 
nothing  but  these,  he  would  still  be  a  commanding  figure  in 
the  literature  of  the  English  race. 

The  Roman  and  Greek  Plays. — The  work  of  this  sombre 
middle  period  of  Shakespeare's  life  includes  several  plays  on 
Roman  and  Greek  subjects.  In  Julius  Ccssar,  the  hero's 
greatness  is  presented  in  a  strange  inverted  way.  While 
Caesar  is  alive,  we  see  only  his  human  weaknesses  and  fail- 
ings; but  after  he  is  dead,  we  are  made  to  feel  the  majesty 
of  his  spirit  by  the  world-wide  ruin  which  follows  his  re- 


114  The  Renaissance 

moval.  In  another  sense,  the  hero  is  not  Caesar,  but  Brutus, 
in  whom  the  poet  saw  a  political  idealist  and  generous 
dreamer,  used  as  a  tool  by  selfish  men,  who  bring  over- 
whelming disaster  upon  the  state  by  their  murder  of  the  only 
man  strong  enough  to  save  it.  In  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
Shakespeare  showed  the  character  of  a  great  Roman  gen- 
eral, crumbling  before  the  breath  of  Eastern  luxury  and 
sensuality,  personified  in  Cleopatra,  the  "worm  of  old  Nile." 
In  Troilus  and  Cressida  he  drew  a  picture  of  faithlessness  in 
love,  a  picture  so  cynical,  so  fierce  in  its  bitterness,  that  it  is 
almost  impossible  to  think  of  it  as  the  work  of  the  hand 
which  drew  Juliet,  Portia  and  Rosalind;  and  at  the  same 
time  he  deformed  the  heroic  figures  of  Homeric  legend  with 
savage  burlesque. 

The  Great  Tragedies:  "Hamlet." — In  Hamlet,  the  first 
of  the  four  great  tragedies  which  form  the  "  captain  jewels  in 
the  carcanet"  of  the  master's  work,  "we  have  the  spectacle  of 
a,  sensitive  and  highly  intellectual  youth,  endowed  with  all 
the  gifts  which  make  for  greatness  of  living,  suddenly  con- 
fronted with  the  knowledge  that  his  father  has  been  murdered, 
and  that  his  mother  has  married  the  murderer, .  Even  before 
the  revelation  comes,  Hamlet  feels  himself  to  be  living  in  an 
alien  moral  world,  and  is  haunted  by  dark  misgivings.  When 
his  father's  ghost  appears  to  him,  with  its  imperative  injunc- 
tion to  revenge,  Hamlet  takes  his  resolution  instantly.  His 
feigned  madness,  an  element  of  the  drama  retained  by  Shake- 
speare from  the  old  story  whence  he  drew  the  plot,  is  the  first 
device  which  Hamlet  hits  upon  to  aid  him  in  his  dangerous 
duty.  He  gives  up  his  love  for  Ophelia  because  he  cannot 
take  her  with  him  into  the  dark  pass  which  he  is  compelled  to 
enter;  and  the  scathing  satire  which  he  pours  out  upon  her 
when  he  fancies  her  in  league  with  Polonius  and  the  king  to 
play  the  spy  upon  him,  gathers  its  force  from  the  greatness  of 
the  renunciation  he  has  made.  His  scheme  for  proving  the 
king's  guilt  beyond  a  peradventure,  by  means  of  the  strolling 
players,  is  carried  through  with  ingenious  skill.  His  dealings 
with  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  are  those  of  a  gifted  man 
of  action.  Yet  it  is  not  wholly  without  reason  that  Hamlet 
has  come  to  stand  in  most  minds  for  a  type  of  irresolution. 


William  Shakespeare  115 

The  exaltation  of  excitement  in  him  causes  his  mind  to  play 
with  feverish  brilliancy  over  the  questions  of  man's  life  and 
death.  His  throbbing,  white-hot  imagination  becomes  a  meet- 
ing-place for  grotesque  and  extravagant  fancies.  Again  and 
again  he  loses  hold  of  his  enterprise  in  the  intellectual  excite- 
ment which  possesses  him,  showing  itself  in  bursts  of  fitful 
eloquence,  in  swift  flashes  of  wit,  in  contemptuous  irony  and 
biting  satire.  From  the  first  we  feel  that  Hamlet  is  doomed 
irrevocably  to  ruin  in  the  moral  chaos  where  the  "  cursed 
spite"  of  his  destiny  has  thrown  him. 

"  Othello." — Othello  has  a  certain  likeness  to  Hamlet  in 
that  here  also  the  hero's  soul  is  thrown  into  violent  pertur- 
bation by  the  discovery  of  evil  poisoning  the  very  sources  of 
his  life.  In  Othello's  case  the  pathos  and  the  tragedy  are 
heightened  by  the  fact  that  the  evil  exists  only  in  the  hero's 
imagination,  into  which  we  see  the  demon-like  Iago  pouring, 
drop  by  drop,  the  poison  of  suspicion.  Othello  is  not  by 
nature  jealous.  Desdemona,  in  answer  to  Emilia's  question, 
"Is  he  not  jealous?"  says, 

"Who,  he?    I  think  the  sun,  where  he  was  born 
Drew  all  such  humors  from  him," 

and  he  everywhere  shows  himself  "of  an  open  and  free 
nature,"  incapable  of  petty  suspicion.  When  Iago,  work- 
ing cautiously,  with  diabolic  skill,  has  at  last  convinced  him 
that  Desdemona  is  false,  the  fatal  rage  which  seizes  him 
derives  its  force  from  the  very  greatness  of  his  love.  The 
real  centre  of  the  play  is  Iago,  with  his  "honest"  manners, 
his  blunt  speech,  his  plausible  zeal  in  his  master's  service; 
underneath  all  which  his  nature  lies  coiled  like  a  snake, 
waiting  for  a  chance  to  sting. 

"Macbeth." — In  Macbeth,  Shakespeare  depicted  the  pas- 
sion of  ambition  working  in  a  nature  morally  weak,  but 
endowed  with  an  intense  poetic  imagination.  Macbeth  is  a 
dreamer  and  a  sentimentalist,  capable  of  conceiving  vividly 
the  goal  of  his  evil  desires,  but  incapable  either  of  resolute 
action  in  attaining  them,  or  of  a  ruthless  enjoyment  of  them 
when  attained.     By  the  murder  of  the  king,  Macbeth  is 


116  The  Renaissance 

plunged  into  a  series  of  crimes,  in  which  he  persists  with  a 
kind  of  faltering  desperation,  until  he  falls  before  the  accu- 
mulated vengeance,  material  and  ghostly,  raised  up  to  punish 
him.  As,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  we  are  shown  the  slow 
degeneration  of  the  hero's  character  under  the  slavery  of 
sense,  so  here  we  behold  the  break-up  of  a  soul  under  the 
torture  of  its  own  sick  imagination.  The  ghost  of  Banquo, 
shaking  its  gory  locks  at  Macbeth  from  its  seat  at  the  banquet 
table,  is  a  symbol  of  the  spiritual  sickness  which  results 
from  the  working  of  a  strong  fancy  upon  a  nature  morally 
weak.  The  witch-hags  who  meet  Macbeth  on  the  heath  are 
embodiments  of  the  powers  of  evil,  summoned  from  the  four 
corners  of  the  air  by  affinity  with  the  evil  heart  of  the  schemer. 
Shakespeare  did  not,  of  course,  consciously  strive  after  sym- 
bolism in  these  things.  It  is  not  impossible  that  he  believed 
in  ghosts  and  witches,  as  did  the  great  mass  of  men  in  his  day, 
from  King  James  down.  It  is  certain  that  he  was  interested 
in  his  story,  here  and  elsewhere,  as  a  piece  of  life  rather  than 
as  a  moral  symbol;  his  work  is  full  of  types  and  symbols 
sinVply  because  life  itself  is  full  of  them. 

Beside  Macbeth  Shakespeare  has  placed  a  woman  who 
possesses  all  the  masculine  qualities  which  the  hero  lacks, 
but  who  is  nevertheless  intensely  feminine  in  her  .devotion  to 
her  lord's  interest,  and  in  her  inability  to  endure  the  strain  of 
a  criminal  life  after  his  support  has  been  withdrawn  from  her. 
Her  will,  though  majestic  when  in  the  prosperous  service  of 
her  husband's  ambition,  collapses  in  sudden  ruin  when  he 
fails  to  rise  to  the  responsibilities  of  their  grim  situation. 
Macbeth 's  feebler  moral  substance  crumbles  piecemeal ;  but 
the  firm  structure  of  his  wife's  spirit,  as  soon  as  its  natural 
foundation  is  destroyed,  falls  by  instant  overthrow. 

"  King  Lear." — King  Lear  is  often  put  at  the  apex  of 
Shakespeare's  achievement,  and  by  many  judges  at  the  head 
of  the  dramatic  literature  of  the  world.  The  story  was  as  old 
as  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  (see  Chap.  Ill),  and,  like  so  many 
of  the  themes  which  Shakespeare  handled,  had  already  been 
made  the  subject  of  a  play,  a  crude  effort  by  some  nameless 
playwright  during  the  experimental  stage  of  Elizabethan 
drama.    As  was  his  constant  custom,  Shakespeare  followed 


William  Shakespeare  117 

the  main  lines  of  the  story  given  him,  and  incorporated  into 
his  grand  edifice  every  bit  of  usable  material  from  the  build- 
ing of  his  predecessor.  Lear  is  an  imperious  nature,  wayward 
by  temperament,  and  made  more  incapable  of  self-govern- 
ment by  long  indulgence  of  its  passionate  whims.  At  the 
opening  of  the  play,  we  see  him  striving  to  find  a  refuge  from 
himself  by  surrendering  all  his  wealth  and  power  in  exchange 
for  absolute  love.  He  demands  love  not  only  in  the  spirit  but 
in  the  letter,  and  thrusts  his  youngest  daughter  Cordelia  from 
him  with  cruel  brusqueness,  when  she  refuses  to  use  extrava- 
gant terms  to  describe  her  affection.  Shakespeare  has  made 
the  same  brusque  and  hasty  spirit  of  the  king  precipitate  upon 
his  old  head  the  enmity  of  his  remaining  daughters,  Goneril 
and  Regan.  Before  he  has  recovered  from  the  shock  of  Cor- 
delia's loss,  this  awful  pair  of  daughters  lay  bare,  little  by  little, 
their  monstrous  souls  to  their  father's  gaze.  As  in  Othello, 
the  result  of  the  revelation  is  to  unhinge  for  the  sufferer  the 
very  order  of  nature.  As  if  in  sympathy  with  the  chaos  in 
Lear's  soul,  the  elements  break  loose ;  and  in  the  pauses  of  the 
blast  we  hear  the  noise  of  violent  crimes,  curses,  heart-broken 
jesting,  the  chatter  of  idiocy,  and  the  wandering  tongue  of 
madness.  The  sentimentalist's  phrase,  "poetic  justice,"  has 
no  meaning  for  Shakespeare.  The  ruin  wrought  in  the  old 
king's  heart  and  brain  is  irreparable,  and  the  tornado  which 
whirls  him  to  his  doom  carries  with  it  the  just  and  the  unjust. 
The  little  golden  pause  of  peace,  when  Lear  and  Cordelia  are 
united,  is  followed  by  the  intolerably  piercing  scene  in  which 
he  bears  her  dead  body  out  of  the  prison,  muttering  that  they 
have  hanged  his  "poor  fool." 

The  "  Period  of  Reconciliation  "  :  Last  Plays. — The  plays 
which  mark  the  closing  period  of  Shakespeare's  life  are  pure 
romances,  conceived  in  a  spirit  of  deep  and  lovely  serenity, 
and  characterized  by  a  silvery  delicacy,  a  tender  musing 
touch,  which  is  new  in  the  poet's  work.  The  new  mood  finds 
beautiful  expression  in  the  pastoral  under-play  of  A  Winter's 
Tale,  where  Prince  Florizel  woos  Perdita,  the  wild-flower 
maid.  It  shines  out  full-orbed  in  The  Tempest,  where  Pros- 
pero  sways  with  his  magic  the  elements  and  the  wills  of  men 
to  his  bidding,  in  the  service  of  his  daughter's  happiness. 


118  The  Renaissance 

In  this  play  all  the  powers  of  the  master  meet  together;  the 
grace  that  had  created  the  fairy  world  of  A  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream,  the  lyric  passion  that  had  breathed  through 
Juliet's  lips  on  her  bridal  morning,  the  drollery  and  wit  that 
had  set  the  laughter  of  centuries  billowing  about  Falstaff,  the 
titanic  might  that  had  sent  a  world  crashing  on  the  head  of 
Lear — all  meet  together  here,  but  curbed,  softened,  silvered 
down  into  exquisite  harmony. 

The  Tempest  is  believed  to  have  been  written  for  the 
wedding  ceremonies  of  Princess  Elizabeth,  daughter  of 
James  L,  and  Prince  Frederick,  the  Elector  Palatine,  in 
1613.  If  this  is  true,  The  Tempest  was  Shakespeare's  fare- 
well to  his  art.  When  scarcely  fifty  years  of  age,  with  his 
genius  at  its  ripest,  and  every  faculty  of  his  mind  in  full 
play,  he  laid  down  his  pen  forever,  as  Prospero,  at  the  end, 
abjures  his  magic,  breaks  his  wand,  and  drowns  his  book 
"deeper  than  did  ever  plummet  sound."  One  is  tempted  to 
indulge  the  fanciful  parallel  still  further,  and  to  think,  of 
Ariel,  the  delicate  and  potent  sprite  whom  Prospero  sets  free, 
as  the  spirit  of  Imagination,  now  released  from  its  long  labors 
in  the  master's  service. 

Appreciation  of  Shakespeare  in  His  Day. — The  common 
opinion  that  Shakespeare  was  unappreciated  by  his  own 
generation,  is  only  partly  true.  If  other  evidence  were 
lacking  to  prove  the  esteem  in  which  he  was  held,  his 
material  prosperity  would  be  sufficient  to  show  at  least 
his  high  popularity  with  the  theatre-going  public.  But  there 
is  other  witness  that  his  genius  was  here  and  there  recog- 
nized. His  great  rival,  Ben  Jonson,  whose  burly  good  sense 
was  not  prone  to  exaggeration,  and  who  perhaps  never  quite 
conquered  a  feeling  of  jealousy  toward  Shakespeare,  wrote 
for  the  first  collective  edition  of  the  plays  a  eulogy  full  of 
deep,  in  places  even  passionate,  admiration;  and  afterward 
said  of  him  in  a  passage  of  moving  sincerity,  "I  did  love  and 
honor  him,  on  this  side  idolatry,  as  much  as  any."  The 
most  significant  hint  we  have  of  his  personal  charm  is  in  the 
adjective  which  is  constantly  applied  to  him  by  his  friends, 
"gentle,"  a  word  also  often  used  to  describe  his  art,  in  allu- 
sion evidently  to  its  humanity  and  poetic  grace. 


Ben  Jonson  119 

Shakespeare's  Carelessness  of  Fame.— The  awe  inspired 
by  the  almost  unearthly  power  and  richness  of  Shakespeare's 
mind  is  apt  to  be  deepened  by  the  knowledge  that  the  noble 
plays  to  which  English-speaking  races  point  as  their  greatest 
single  achievement,  were  thrown  into  the  world  carelessly, 
and  would  have  perished  altogether  if  the  author  of  them 
had  had  his  way.  During  his  lifetime  they  were  printed 
only  in  pirated  editions,  taken  down  by  shorthand  from  the 
lips  of  the  players,  or  patched  up  from  prompters'  manu- 
scripts dishonestly  acquired.  He  does  not  mention  his  plays 
in  his  will.  Not  until  1623,  seven  years  after  his  death,  did 
a  collective  edition  appear  (known  as  the  First  Folio),  and 
then  only  because  of  the  piety  of  two  of  his  actor-friends. 
The  printing  of  a  play  while  it  was  still  actable,  was  of  course 
disadvantageous  to  the  company  whose  property  it  was ;  and 
Shakespeare  had  probably  made  over  his  plays  to  his  com- 
pany as  they  were  produced.  Yet  even  when  this  is  taken 
into  consideration,  we  are  filled  with  astonishment.  We  see 
in  the  working  of  the  master's  spirit  not  only  the  vast  liber- 
ality but  also  the  startling  carelessness  of  Nature,  who  seems 
with  infinite  loving  pains  to  create  her  marvels,  and  then  to 
turn  listlessly  away  while  they  are  given  over  to  destruction. 

II.    BEN   JONSON   AND   THE   LATER   DRAMATISTS 

Ben  Jonson ;  His  Life. — The  most  commanding  figure  in 
the  group  of  Shakespeare's  dramatic  contemporaries  is  Ben 
Jonson  (15 73-1637).  Although  of  humble  birth,  the  son  of 
a  bricklayer,  he  was  sent  to  Westminster  School  and  pos- 
sibly to  Cambridge;  and  he  ultimately  became  one  of  the 
most  learned  men  of  his  time.  As  a  young  man  he  served  a 
campaign  with  the  English  army  in  Flanders,  where  (as  he 
afterward  boasted)  he  fought  a  duel  with  a  champion  of  the 
enemy  in  the  sight  of  both  armies,  and  took  from  him  his 
arms.  The  incident  is  characteristic  of  Jonson's  rugged 
and  domineering  character.  As  he  served  the  foreign  soldier, 
he  afterward  served  the  luckless  poets  and  poetasters  who 
challenged  him  to  a  war  of  words. 

After  returning  to  England,  he  began  to  work  for  the 


120  The  Renaissance 

theatres.  His  first  play  was  Every  Man  in  His  Humour 
(1597),  in  which  Shakespeare  is  known  to  have  acted.  A 
series  of  literary  quarrels  followed,  in  the  course  of  which 
he  wrote  several  elaborate  plays  to  revenge  himself  upon  his 
rather  puny  enemies.  His  three  masterpieces  appeared  be- 
tween 1605  and  1610.  They  are  The  Silent  Woman,  Volpone, 
and  The  Alchemist — all  called  comedies  by  him.,  though  the 
second  is  a  gloomy  and  biting  satire.  He  also  wrote  two 
massive  tragedies  taken  from  Roman  history,  Sejanus  and 
Cataline.  For  many  years  after  his  appointment  by  James 
I.,  in  1603,  as  poet-laureate,  he  supplied  the  king  with  court- 
masques.  In  his  later  years  Jonson  lost  the  laureateship, 
and  his  plays,  never  very  popular,  failed  dismally.  Before 
his  death,  in  1637,  he  was  stricken  with  paralysis,  and  felt 
the  sharp  pinch  of  poverty.  He  was  buried  in  Westminster 
Abbey.  A  pretty  anecdote  relates  that  when  the  workmen 
were  putting  in  place  the  stone  slab  which  marks  his  rest- 
ing-place, a  stranger  passing  by  gave  them  money  to  carve 
upon  it  the  words  which  may  still  be  deciphered  there,  "  O 
Rare  Ben  Jonson." 

Jonson  was  a  critic  of  great  sanity  and  force,  writing  a  per- 
fectly simple  and  unadorned  prose,  very  different  from  the 
elaborate  and  figurative  prose-style  common  in  his  day. 
His  volume  of  short  reflections  upon  life  and  art,  entitled 
Timber,  is  particularly  interesting  for  the  criticisms  of 
Shakespeare  which  it  contains. 

It  was  chiefly  Jonson's  aggressive  decision  and  rugged 
honesty  which  enabled  him  to  hold  for  a  quarter  of  a  century 
his  position  of  literary  dictator,  and  lord  of  the  "  tavern- wits." 
The  tavern  was  for  the  seventeenth  century  what  the  coffee- 
house was  for  the  eighteenth,  a  rallying  place  for  literary  men ; 
and  Jonson  is  almost  as  typical  a  tavern  figure  as  Falstaff. 
His  "mountain  belly  and  his  rocky  face,"  his  genial,  domi- 
neering personality,  ruled  by  royal  right  the  bohemian  circle 
which  gathered  at  "The  Mermaid"  or  "The  Devil."  Here 
took  place  those  famous  wit-combats  between  Jonson  and 
Shakespeare,  described  by  Fuller  under  the  simile  of  a  sea- 
fight;  Jonson,  slow  of  movement  and  "high  built  in  learn- 
ing," being  likened  to  a  great  Spanish  galleon,  Shakespeare 


Ben  Jonson  121 

to  an  English  man-of-war,  swift  to  strike  and  dart  away, 
confounding  the  enemy  with  agility  and  adroitness. 

Jonson's  Method:  His  "Humors." — The  chief  peculiar- 
ity of  Jonson's  dramas  is  hinted  at  by  the  title  of  his  first 
play,  Every  Man  in  His  Humour.  The  word  "humor"  was 
a  cant  term  in  his  day,*  equivalent  to  "whim"  or  "hobby." 
He  hit  upon  the  device  of  endowing  each  one  of  his  char- 
acters with  some  particular  oddity  or  affectation,  some  ludi- 
crous exaggeration  of  manner,  speech,  or  dress;  and  of  so 
thrusting  forward  this  single  odd  trait  that  all  others  might 
be  lost  sight  of.  Every  man,  in  other  words,  should  be 
"in  his  humor."  This  working  principle  Jonson  extended 
afterward  in  his  two  great  comedies,  Volpone  and  The 
Alchemist.  In  Volpone  he  studied,  not  a  foible  or  whim, 
but  a  master-passion,  the  passion  of  greed,  as  it  affects  a 
whole  social  group;  in  The  Alchemist  he  made  an  elaborate 
study  of  human  gullibility.  Shakespeare  also  has  devoted 
whole  plays  to  the  study  of  a  master-passion — in  Othello 
that  of  jealousy,  in  Macbeth  that  of  ambition.  But  he 
does  this  in  a  very  different  way  from  Jonson,  with  more 
freedom  and  naturalness.  Jonson  seems  always  to  have  a  set 
programme:  he  lets  us,  in  other  words,  "see  the  machinery," 
and  by  so  doing  loses  in  spontaneousness  and  charm.  His 
ideal  was  strictly  classical;  and  he  tried,  with  all  his  might, 
to  stem  the  tide  of  the  romantic  drama.  His  failure  in  this 
was  one  of  the  circumstances  which  embittered  his  old  age. 

Jonson's  Realism. — In  at  least  one  respect  the  comedies 
of  Ben  Jonson  are  the  most  interesting  plays  in  the  whole 
Elizabethan  repertory — namely,  in  the  vivid  pictures  they 
give  of  contemporary  London  life.  From  Jonson's  com- 
edies alone  it  would  be  possible  to  reconstruct  whole  areas 
of  Elizabethan  society;  a  study  of  them  is  indispensable  if 
one  would  know  the  brilliant  and  amusing  surface  of  the 
most  sociable  era  of  English  history.  At  least  one  of  Jonson's 
comedies,  too,  gives  this  close  and  realistic  study  of  manners 
with  a  gayety  and  grace  fairly  rivalling  Shakespeare;  The 
Silent  Woman  is  one  of  the  most  sparkling  comedies  ever 

*  Note  Bardolph's  use  of  the  word  in  Henry  IV.  and  Henry  V. 


122  The  Renaissance 

written,  full  of  splendid  fun,  and  with  a  bright,  quick  move- 
ment which  never  flags. 

Jonson's  Masques. — One  of  Jonson's  best  claims  to  re- 
membrance is  that  he  brought  to  perfection  the  court  masque. 
Masques  were  an  outgrowth  of  the  ceremonial  spectacles 
of  the  middle  ages  (see  page  90),  modified  by  the  classical 
taste  of  the  Italian  Renaissance.  They  were  little  spectacle 
plays,  interspersed  with  songs  and  elaborate  dances,  and 
provided  with  an  accompaniment  of  instrumental  music. 
The  subjects  were  usually  allegorical.  The  persons  repre- 
sented were  either  gods  and  goddesses  from  classical  myth- 
ology, or  abstract  figures,  such  as  Beauty,  Wit,  Passion, 
Despair.  Jonson  wrote  nearly  forty  of  these  masques,  all 
of  them  delicate  in  fancy  and  rich  in  lyric  adornment.  The 
titles  themselves  suggest  their  character:  Neptune's  Triumph, 
The  Masque  of  Blackness,  The  Masque  of  Queens,  The  Fort- 
unate Islands.  They  were  given  in  the  theatre  of  the  royal 
palace  at  Whitehall,  by  gorgeously  costumed  lords  and  ladies. 
Magnificent  stage-settings  and  transformation  scenes  were 
contrived  for  them  by  King  James's  architect,  Inigo  Jones ; 
the  music  was  written  by  the  king's  musician,  Ferrabosco, 
and  the  dances  were  in  charge  of  court  dancing  masters, 
who  were  men  of  importance  at  that  time,  when  dancing 
was  cultivated  as  a  noble  art.  The  masque  was  the  fore- 
runner of  the  opera,  which  after  Jonson's  death  began  to  de- 
velop in  its  stead.  Shortly  before  Jonson's  death,  the  masque 
form  was  used  by  Milton  in  his  Comus,  and  made  the  vehicle 
of  one  of  the  noblest  of  English  poems. 

Jonson  displayed  his  lyric  gift  also  in  many  short  poems, 
which  for  their  delicacy  and  sweetness  are  conspicuous  even 
in  the  Elizabethan  age,  when  almost  every  writer  was  capable 
of  turning  off  a  charming  song.  The  best  known  of  his  lyrics 
are  "  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes,"  and  "  See  the  chariot 
at  hand  here  of  love " ;  of  both  these  the  old-time  music  has 
fortunately  reached  us.  His  verses  upon  Shakespeare,  pre- 
fixed to  the  First  Folio  edition  of  his  great  rival's  plays  (1623), 
have  furnished  many  phrases  of  common  quotation,  such  as 
"Swan  of  Avon,"  and  "He  was  not  of  an  age  but  for  all 
time." 


End  of  Elizabethan  Drama  123 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher. — Francis  Beaumont  (i  584-161 6) 
and  John  Fletcher  (1575-1625)  are,  in  Lowell's  phrase,  among 
"the  double  stars  of  the  heavens  of  poetry."  Fletcher,  the 
elder  of  the  two,  was  the  son  of  a  Bishop  of  London.  Through 
his  father  the  young  dramatist  gained  an  insight  into  court 
life,  and  learned  to  paint,  better  than  any  of  his  contem- 
poraries, the  hollow  inside,  and  the  exquisite  outer  finish, 
of  courtly  manners.  Another  fact  contributing  to  form  his 
genius,  was  that  the  official  residence  of  his  father,  the  episco- 
pal palace  at  Fulham,  lay  amid  beautiful  river  and  forest 
scenery.  To  the  country  memories  gathered  here  in  boy- 
hood he  gave  expression  later  in  the  pastoral  play  of  The 
Faith jul  Shepherdess,  as  well  as  in  the  songs  with  which  his 
dramas  are  richly  interspersed. 

At  the  Mermaid  tavern,  among  those  "sealed  of  the  tribe 
of  Ben,"  he  met  the  man  whose  name  is  inseparably  linked 
with  his  own.  Francis  Beaumont  was  nine  years  younger 
than  Fletcher,  being  about  twenty-one  at  the  time  of  their 
meeting.  After  their  partnership  began,  tradition  says  that 
they  lived  together  on  the  Bankside,  sharing  everything,  even 
their  clothing,  in  common.  This  at  least  represents  a  more 
essential  truth,  that  they  entered  into  a  wonderfully  close 
intellectual  partnership ;  one  mind  supplying  what  the  other 
lacked,  to  produce  a  rounded  result.  The  fifty-two  plays 
which  go  under  their  common  name  illustrate  nearly  every 
type  of  dramatic  composition  known  to  the  Elizabethan 
stage,  and  constitute  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  "  absolute  lords 
of  a  goodly  realm  of  romance."  Nevertheless,  in  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher,  and  still  more  in  their  fellow- workmen,  Thomas 
Middleton  (i57o?-i627)  and  John  Webster  (dates  unknown), 
we  mark  symptoms  which  tell  us  that  the  high  point  of  the 
drama  has  been  passed,  and  that  decay  and  degeneration 
is  about  to  set  in. 

The  Decay  of  the  Drama. — One  symptom  of  decadence  in 
the  later  dramatists  is  an  obvious  straining  after  intensity. 
As  the  ordinary  "  strong  situations  "  began  to  be  worked  out, 
dramatists  made  excursions  into  the  strained  and  the  un- 
natural, in  order  to  find  new  matter.  A  second  and  more 
fatal  flaw  in  the  later  dramatists  is  the  laxity  of  the  moral 


124  The  Renaissance 

atmosphere  pervading  much  of  their  work.  The  moral  values 
are  not  preserved  with  the  absolute  health  of  soul  which  is 
Shakespeare's  greatest  glory,  but  are  blurred  or  distorted  in 
the  search  after  excitement.  After  the  death  of  Shakespeare 
(1616)  the  decay  of  the  drama  was  rapid.  In  John  Ford 
( 1 586-1 640  ?)  the  morbidness  of  tone  becomes  intolerable,  and 
from  the  plays  of  James  Shirley  (1 596-1666),  the  last  of  the 
long  line,  the  vital  fire  has  almost  wholly  departed. 

The  Actors  and  the  Puritans :  Closing  of  the  Theatres. — 
As  the  drama  grew  weaker  and  more  corrupt,  its  enemies 
grew  stronger  and  more  determined  to  root  it  out  from  the 
land  as  an  abomination.  Early  in  the  history  of  the  drama 
a  war  had  begun  to  be  waged  between  the  actors  and  the 
Puritans.  In  1576  we  hear  of  strolling  companies  being  kept 
out  of  London  by  Puritan  law-makers;  and  when  the  first 
theatres  were  erected  they  were  placed  in  the  suburbs  to  the 
north,  and  in  the  "liberties,"  or  exempt  lands,  across  the 
Thames  in  Southwark.  Under  Queen  Elizabeth's  protection 
the  actors  grew  strong  enough  to  enter  the  city ;  and  as  long 
as  her  strong  hand  was  at  the  helm,  the  Puritans  did  not 
assert  themselves  very  vigorously.  But  when  James  I.  came 
to  the  throne,  with  his  lack  of  personal  dignity,  his  bigoted 
dictum  of  the  divine  right  of  kings,  his  immoral  court  full 
of  greedy  nobles  from  Scotland  and  Spain,  the  Puritan  party 
gained  rapidly  in  aggressiveness.  After  the  meeting  of  the 
Long  Parliament,  the  Puritans  quickly  came  to  a  reckoning 
with  the  theatre.  In  1641  appeared  a  pamphlet  called  "The 
Stage- Players'  Complaint,"  which  says  pathetically,  "The 
High  Commission  Court  is  down,  the  Star-Chamber  is  down, 
and  some  think  Bishops  will  down;  but  why  should  not  we 
then  that  are  far  inferior  to  any  of  these,  justly  fear  that  we 
should  be  down  too?"  In  September  of  1642  an  ordinance 
of  both  Houses  of  Parliament  closed  the  theatres  throughout 
the  kingdom.  They  were  not  reopened  until  eighteen  years 
later,  when  the  reins  of  power  had  fallen  from  the  dead  hand 
of  Cromwell,  and  Charles  II.  ascended  the  throne  from  which 
his  father  had  been  led  to  the  scaffold. 


Review  Outline  125 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— Give  a  sketch  of  Shakespeare's  life,  up  to 
the  time  of  his  establishment  in  London,  noting  as  many  circumstances 
as  possible  which  you  think  could  have  been  useful  in  preparing  him 
for  his  career  as  dramatist  and  poet.  At  the  time  of  Shakespeare's 
coming  to  London  only  a  few  rude  theatres  existed,  and  those,  owing 
to  the  enmity  of  the  Puritans  (who  held  control  of  the  London  mu- 
nicipal government)  were  all  outside  the  walls  of  the  city,  to  the 
north,  in  the  open  fields  used  as  public  playgrounds.  Review  what 
was  said  in  the  last  chapter  concerning  the  character  of  the  early 
playhouses,  and  the  manner  in  which  plays  were  given.  Try  to 
imagine  Shakespeare  as  a  young  man  in  these  surroundings.  For 
what  playhouse  and  what  manager  did  he  do  his  first  work?  What 
later  theatre  is  connected  with  his  name?  Note  that  the  later  theatres 
were  built  chiefly  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Thames,  in  open  spaces 
devoted  to  all  kinds  of  public  amusements.  Call  to  mind  Chaucer's 
connection  with  this  part  of  London.  Gather  together  from  this  chap- 
ter the  known  facts  and  the  hints  which  have  come  down  to  us  con- 
cerning Shakespeare's  life  in  London:  his  friendships,  his  enemies,  his 
business  prosperity  and  the  use  to  which  he  put  it;  the  "Dark  Lady" 
of  the  sonnets;  the  impression  which  he  made  upon  those  who  knew 
him.  Tell  what  you  can  of  the  close  of  Shakespeare's  life;  note  in  this 
connection  what  is  said  of  "The  Tempest"  as  his  "farewell  to  his  art."* 

The  chronology  of  Shakespeare's  plays  is,  except  in  a  few  in- 
stances, uncertain.  The  order  in  which  they  are  given  here,  and  their 
grouping,  is  not  to  be  taken,  therefore,  as  absolutely  true,  but  only  as 
representing,  in  a  general  way,  what  is  probable.  The  same  thing 
must  be  said  concerning  the  account  here  given  of  the  growth  of 
Shakespeare's  mind,  based  upon  the  chronological  order  of  his  plays. 
With  this  precaution,  and  recollecting  that  we  are  dealing  largely  with 
conjecture,  describe  the  main  periods  and  groups  into  which  the  plays 
fall;  name  two  or  more  plays  under  each  head.  What  appropriateness 
do  you  find  in  the  title  "A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream"?  In  what 
various  ways  is  the  love-theme  presented  in  this  play?  Do  you  re- 
member any  work  of  Chaucer  in  which  "Theseus,  Duke  of  Athens," 
figures?  "Romeo  and  Juliet"  is  called  a  "tragedy  of  fate,"  that  is,  a 
play  in  which  the  tragic  outcome  depends  upon  circumstances  lying 
outside  the  will  of  the  actors;  after  reading  the  play,  try  to  decide  how 
far  the  tragedy  of  the  lovers  is  due  to  their  own  characters  and  actions, 
how  far  to  accidents,  or  to  circumstances  beyond  their  control. 


126    Shakespeare  and  his  Fellow-Dramatists 

In  what  two  plays  does  Shakespeare  show  the  influence  of  Mar- 
lowe ?  What  episode  of  Shakespeare's  personal  history  has  been  thought 
to  be  reflected  in  "King  John"?  Shakespeare  was  the  first  to  write 
historical  plays  in  a  connected  series:  "Richard  II."  takes  up  English 
history  at  a  time  when  Chaucer  was  a  man  of  middle  life;  "Henry  IV." 
and  "  Henry  V."  follow,  bringing  the  story  down  into  the  first 
quarter  of  the  fifteenth  century;  Shakespeare's  youthful  work  (or  an 
old  work  revised  by  him),  "Henry  VI.,"  carries  on  the  account  into 
the  wars  of  the  Roses;  then  later  passages  of  the  same  unfolding  na- 
tional drama  are  treated  in  "Richard  III."  and  "Henry  VIII.,"  father  of 
Queen  Elizabeth.  We  see,  therefore,  that  Shakespeare  virtually  covers 
in  his  historical  plays  the  story  of  his  country  from  Chaucer's  time 
until  his  own.  In  which  of  these  plays  does  Falstaff  figure?  What 
was  Shakespeare's  aim  in  introducing  such  a  person  into  an  historical 
drama?  In  what  sense  may  "Henry  V."  be  called  the  most  personal 
and  self-revealing  of  Shakespeare's  plays  ? 

How  many  of  the  characters  mentioned  in  the  text  as  occurring  in 
the  "joyous  comedies"  can  you  place,  from  your  own  reading?  Add 
to  the  list,  as  many  others  as  you  can,  and  characterize  them  to  your 
own  satisfaction.  Why  may  "Julius  Caesar"  be  said  to  have  a  double 
hero?  What  earlier  English  poet  had  treated  the  subject  of  "Troilus 
and  Cressida"?  Explain  how  "Hamlet,"  "Othello,"  and  "Lear"  may 
all  be  classed  together  as  "tragedies  of  disillusion."  The  source  of  the 
Lear  story  is  the  same  as  that  of  Layamon  s  "Brut,"  of  Malory's  "Morte 
d'Arthur"  of  the  early  classical  play  "Gorboduc"  and,  in  part,  of  Tenny- 
son's "Idylls  of  the  King."  What  is  this  source?  What  change  in 
Shakespeare's  mood  is  revealed  by  his  last  plays  ?  What  evidence  is 
there  that  Shakespeare's  genius  was  in  some  measure  appreciated  by 
his  contemporaries?  Tell  what  you  can  of  the  manner  in  which  his 
plays  have  been  preserved. 

What  is  Ben  Jonson's  rank  among  Elizabethan  dramatists?  Tell 
what  you  can  of  him,  (a)  as  a  man,  (b)  as  scholar,  (c)  as  lyric  poet, 
(d)  as  critic  and  literary  dictator,  (e)  as  dramatist.  Draw  together  all 
the  circumstances  of  his  relation  to  Shakespeare.  Name  his  three  best 
plays  and  characterize  two  of  them.  In  what  way  does  the  title  of 
Jonson's  earliest  comedy  give  the  key  to  his  dramatic  method  ?  Taking 
into  account  the  fact  that  Jonson's  ideal  was  the  classic  one,  should 
you  expect  to  find  in  his  historical  plays  such  comic  episodes  as  the 
Falstaff  scenes  in  "Henry  IV"?    Why?    In  what  respect  are  Jonson's 


Reading  Guide  127 

comedies  of  supreme  interest  among  the  plays  of  the  time?  Describe 
the  nature  of  the  court-masque  and  the  manner  of  its  presentation. 
What  modern  form  of  entertainment  has  grown  out  of  it?  Who  raised 
the  masque-form  to  a  higher  beauty  than  even  Jonson  had  given  it  ? 
Milton's  "Comus"  was  suggested  in  part  by  "The  Faithful  Shepherd- 
ess": tell  what  you  can  of  the  author  of  this  play,  and  of  his  rela- 
tions with  his  collaborator.  Note  the  signs  of  decay  in  the  dramas  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  and  their  successors.  Reflect  upon  the  phrase 
"health  of  soul"  as  applied  to  Shakespeare,  and  see  if  you  can  illustrate 
its  meaning  from  one  or  more  of  his  plays.  Why  were  the  Puritans  an- 
tagonistic to  the  theatre  ?  Why  did  their  antagonism  become  stronger 
as  time  went  on?   When  were  the  theatres  closed  and  for  how  long? 

READING  GUIDE.— The  plays  of  Shakespeare  best  adapted  for 
school  study  are  perhaps  "Julius  Caesar,"  "Macbeth,"  "The  Merchant 
of  Venice,"  and  "As  You  Like  It."  All  these  plays  are  included  in  the 
inexpensive  Riverside  Literature  series  (Houghton,  Mifflin).  Among 
the  numberless  biographies  and  critical  studies  of  Shakespeare,  the  best 
for  school  use  is  the  little  volume  by  E.  Dowden,  in  the  Literature  Primers 
series  (Appleton).  The  many  interesting  illustrations  in  H.  W.  Mabie's 
"William  Shakespeare,  Poet,  Dramatist^  and  Man,"  if  they  can  be  put 
before  a  class,  will  do  much  toward  making  the  surroundings  of  the 
dramatist's  life  realizable.  Emerson's  essay  on  Shakespeare,  in  his 
"Representative  Men,"  Carlyle's  essay  in  "Heroes  and  Hero-Worship," 
and  Lowell's  in  "Among  My  Books,"  will  be  found  valuable  in  giving 
the  student  a  larger  understanding  of  Shakespeare's  significance. 

If  time  serve,  and  the  students  are  sufficiently  advanced,  a  volunteer 
report  to  the  class  upon  one  of  Ben  Jonson's  masques  should  be  asked 
for.  This  will  be  of  especial  interest  if  given  in  connection  with  the 
class-study  of  Milton's  "Comus."  Several  of  Jonson's  masques,  and 
an  essay  on  the  masque  as  a  dramatic  form,  may  be  found  in  H.  A. 
Evans's  "English  Masques."  For  advanced  students  a  rapid  reading 
of  one  of  Jonson's  realistic  comedies,  as  "The  Silent  Woman,"  and 
one  of  Shakespeare's  romantic  comedies,  such  as  "Twelfth  Night," 
and  a  comparison  of  the  two,  will  be  of  great  interest. 

Those  who  wish  to  gain  a  first-hand  acquaintance  with  the  work  of 
Shakespeare's  great  contemporaries  in  the  drama,  will  find  excellent 
material  in  "The  Best  Elizabethan  Plays,"  edited  by  W.  H.  Thayer 
(Ginn).     The  plays  included  are  Marlowe's  "Jew  of  Malta,"  Jonson's 


128    Shakespeare  and  his  Fellow-Dramatists 

"Alchemist,"  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  "Philaster"  and  "The  Two 
Noble  Kinsmen"  (attributed  in  part  to  Shakespeare),  and  Webster's 
"Duchess  of  Main."  Three  of  Jonson's  comedies,  "The  Alchemist," 
"Volpone,"  and  "The  Silent  Woman,"  together  with  his  beautiful  pas- 
toral play,  "The  Sad  Shepherd"  (left  unfinished  at  his  death),  and 
his  poems,  are  to  be  had  in  a  single  volume  in  Morley's  Universal 
Library. 

William  Black's  novel,  "Judith  Shakespeare, '  gives  a  fresh  and 
charming  picture  of  rural  England  in  Shakespeare's  day. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   SEVENTEENTH   CENTURY:    FROM  THE 

DEATH   OF   ELIZABETH  TO   THE 

RESTORATION 

I.    INTRODUCTION 

The  Growth  of  Puritanism. — The  period  between  the  death 
of  Elizabeth  and  the  Restoration  (1603-1660)  was  one  of 
great  excitement  and  disturbance  in  the  national  life.  Puri- 
tanism, under  various  names,  had  been  growing  in  strength 
since  the  days  of  Wyclif  and  Langland.  In  Henry  VIII. 's 
reign  the  Bible,  newly  translated  by  Tyndale  and  Coverdale, 
had  been  set  up  in  the  churches.  This  mighty  book,  in  which 
every  form  of  literature,  idyll,  song,  drama,  and  epic,  was 
eloquently  represented,  became  the  chief  food  of  the  popular 
mind.  Crowds  gathered  about  the  pillars  in  the  churches  to 
which  the  Book  was  chained,  and  listened  eagerly  while  some 
lettered  person  "with  an  audible  voice"  read  from  its  pages. 
Theology  became  the  passion  of  the  people,  or  at  least  of 
that  portion  of  the  people,  the  Puritan  element,  which  had 
most  deeply  felt  the  impulse  of  the  Reformation.  Men  were 
brought  face  to  face  with  the  source  of  divine  authority; 
they  began  to  feel  an  awful  personal  responsibility  concerning 
the  welfare  of  their  souls.  Out  of  these  conditions  arose  the 
Puritans,  whose  black  steeple-crowned  hats  and  sombre 
cloaks  typified  the  sombreness  and  severity  of  their  view  of 
life.  Their  distrust  of  forms  and  ceremonies  in  religion, 
and  of  the  gayeties  of  social  life,  led  them  to  hate  the  painted 
windows,  gilded  organ  pipes,  and  carved  chancel  rails  of  old 
cathedrals,  and  to  long  to  sweep  away  all  traces  of  the  "merry 
England "  of  Elizabeth's  time,  typified  by  such  innocent  and 
time-honored  customs  as  the  dance  about  the  Maypole,  and 


130  The  Seventeenth  Century 

the  hanging  of  yew  and  holly  at  Christmas.  The  same 
sombre  zeal  made  of  them,  under  Cromwell,  formidable 
soldiers,  who  advanced  with  hymns  and  with  snatches  of  old 
Hebrew  war  songs  on  their  lips,  to  overthrow  the  proud  cava- 
lier armies.  It  made  of  them  wanderers  and  exiles,  seeking 
in  Holland,  and  in  the  far-off  wilds  of  America,  a  place  where 
they  could  worship  God  after  their  own  hearts.  As  early  as 
1620,  when  Milton  was  a  boy  of  twelve,  a  band  of  these  "pil- 
grims" landed  at  Plymouth,  on  the  coast  of  Massachusetts, 
and  began  there  the  founding  of  a  great  Puritan  common- 
wealth of  which  we  are  the  inheritors. 

Struggle  Between  King  and  Parliament. — With  the  de- 
mand for  religious  freedom,  there  soon  became  involved  a 
demand  for  greater  political  liberty.  The  struggle  between 
the  king  and  parliament  grew  in  bitterness  through  the  reign 
of  James  I.  (1603-1625).  James  handed  on  to  his  son, 
Charles  I.,  his  doctrine  that  kings  govern,  not  by  the  will  of 
the  people  but  by  divine  right,  and  that  the  church  is  as 
much  under  the  royal  jurisdiction  as  are  the  temporal  af- 
fairs of  the  nation.  As  Charles  became  more  arrogant  in 
his  policy,  the  mood  of  parliament  became  more  hostile. 
In  1629  Charles  dissolved  parliament,  and  for  eleven  years 
there  was  no  meeting  of  either  house.  With  the  aid  of 
judges  of  his  own  appointment,  and  of  counsellors  and  favor- 
ites pledged  to  his  absolute  view,  Charles  governed  without 
heed  to  the  growing  wrath  of  the  nation.  He  gave  the  di- 
rection of  the  church  into  the  hands  of  Archbishop  Laud, 
who  not  only  compelled  uniformity  in  worship,  but  insisted 
upon  ceremonies,  such  as  kneeling  at  the  communion  table 
and  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  which  seemed  to  threaten 
the  return  of  Catholicism.  Milton's  "Lycidas,"  written  in 
1637,  expresses  the  indignation  and  fear  which  Laud's  policy 
aroused  in  the  hearts  of  all  Puritans. 

The  Civil  War  and  the  Protectorate  :  The  Restoration. — By 
1639  Charles  had  become  involved  in  a  war  with  the  Scotch 
Presbyterians,  upon  whom  he  had  tried  to  force  a  new  prayer- 
book.  He  was  compelled  to  summon  parliament,  but  dis- 
missed it  angrily.  The  Scotch  invaded  England.  A  new 
parliament,  the  famous  Long  Parliament,  which  met  in  1640, 


Introduction  131 

took  affairs  into  its  own  hands  and  made  common  cause  with 
the  Scotch.  The  civil  war  followed.  Oliver  Cromwell,  with 
his  "  Ironsides,"  as  the  flower  of  the  stern  Puritan  army  were 
called,  crushed  the  king's  forces,  after  three  years  of  righting, 
at  Naseby,  in  1645.  Four  years  later  Charles  was  beheaded  on 
a  scaffold  outside  the  windows  of  the  palace  of  Whitehall. 
In  1653,  Cromwell  took  the  reins  of  power  into  his  single 
hands,  and  under  the  title  of  Lord  Protector,  reigned  as  a 
military  despot,  the  excuse  for  his  despotism  being  that  the 
only  alternative  to  it  was  anarchy.  During  all  this  troubled 
period  John  Milton,  whose  character  gives  us  the  highest 
and  best  expression  of  Puritanism,  stood  forth  as  champion  of 
the  cause,  though  often  at  odds  both  with  the  parliament  and 
with  Cromwell,  and  maintaining  many  independent  convic- 
tions. On  Cromwell's  death,  in  1658,  the  dictatorship  ex- 
isted for  a  while  under  his  feeble  son.  By  this  time  the 
temper  of  the  nation  had  changed.  Puritanism  had  ceased 
to  be  dominant;  the  people  were  eager  for  the  restoration  of 
the  Stuart  family.  In  1660  Charles's  son  Was  recalled  from 
exile,  and  mounted  the  throne  as  King  Charles  It. 

Rise  of  Scientific  Thought.— Along  with  these  religious  and 
political  causes  of  disturbance,  there  went  also  an  intellectual 
one.  The  seventeenth  century  saw  the  rise  of  modern  scientific 
thought.  It  was  a  time  when-  the  foundations  of  knowledge 
were  being  questioned.  A  spirit  of  bold  speculation  was  in 
the  air.  Creed  clashed  with  creed,  and  theory  with  theory, 
much  as  they  have  done  in  our  age,  which  has  been,  like  the 
seventeenth  century,  an  age  of  discovery  and  excited  question. 
This  new  scientific  spirit  found  its  chief  expression  in  the 
writings  of  Sir  Francis  Bacon. 

II.    FRANCIS  BACON    (1561-1625) 

Bacon's  Life  and  Character. — Francis  Bacon  was  born  in 
1 56 1,  three  years  before  Shakespeare.  His  father  was  Lord 
Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal  to  Elizabeth,  and  his  uncle  was 
Lord  Burleigh,  Elizabeth's  prime-minister.  He  was  thus 
marked  out  by  birth  for  a  public  career.  Owing  to  the  op- 
position of  his  jealous  uncle,  he  got  little  preferment  under 


SIR   FRANCIS   BACON 
From  an  engraving  by  I.  Houbrakeo 


Francis  Bacon  133 

the  queen;  but  under  James  I.  he  rose  rapidly  through 
various  offices  to  be  Lord  Chancellor,  with  the  title  of  Vis- 
count St.  Albans.  In  this  position  he  supported  his  dig- 
nities by  a  magnificence  of  living  altogether  out  of  proportion 
to  his  legitimate  income.  In  162 1  he  was  impeached  before 
the  House  of  Lords  for  bribe-taking  and  corruption  in 
office,  found  guilty,  and  subjected  to  fine  and  imprisonment. 
He  retired,  a  broken  and  ruined  man,  to  his  seat  of  Gor- 
hambury,  and  spent  the  remaining  five  years  of  his  life  in 
scientific  and  philosophic  pursuits ;  still,  however,  keeping  up 
a  show  of  his  former  magnificence,  with  an  unconquerable 
pride  which  caused  Prince  Charles  to  exclaim,  "This  man 
scorns  to  go  out  in  a  snuff!" 

For  Bacon's  personal  character  it  is  impossible  to  feel 
much  admiration..  But  it  is  equally  impossible  not  to  ad- 
mire his  spacious  and  luminous  mind,  and  the  devotion  to 
pure  thought  which  constituted  his  deeper  life.  In  a  letter 
written  at  the  outset  of  his  career,  he  says  proudly,  "I  confess 
that  I  have  as  vast  contemplative  ends  as  I  have  moderate 
civil  ends;  for  I  have  taken  all  knowledge  to  be  my  prov- 
ince." 

The  "  Novum  Organum  "  and  the  "  Advancement  of 
Learning." — His  programme  was  indeed  a  majestic  one, 
very  similar  in  kind  to  that  of  Herbert  Spencer  in  our  own 
time.  As  Spencer  has  attempted  to  organize  the  vast  stores 
of  modern  science  into  a  "synthetic  philosophy,"  so  Bacon 
desired  to  systematize  the  knowledge  of  his  day,  and  to  lay 
down  a  method  for  carrying  that  knowledge  indefinitely 
farther.  But  before  he  could  do  so  he  had  to  reform  the 
very  methods  of  thought  by  which  knowledge  is  gathered.  In 
the  philosophy  of  the  middle  ages  there  had  been  almost  no 
attempt  to  examine  the  facts  of  nature,  and  draw  conclusion 
from  actual  observation.  Philosophers  had  begun  by  stating 
their  large  theories  at  the  outset,  without  the  long  and  patient 
process  of  observation,  by  which  a  modern  theory,  like  that  of 
evolution,  for  example,  is  built  up.  Bacon  saw  clearly  that 
the  modern  method,  which  we  call  the  "inductive  method"  of 
thought  (as  opposed  to  the  other,  or  "deductive"  method), 
was  the  only  true  one  in  science.    He  laid  down  the  new 


134  The  Seventeenth  Century 

scientific  programme  in  the  Novum  Organum,  and  the  Ad- 
vancement of  Learning.  The  change  in  method  had  to  come 
with  the  rise  of  the  scientific  spirit;  it  is  Bacon's  glory  that 
he  saw  and  expressed  the  need  of  change  before  others 
were  quite  conscious  of  it. 

The  "  Essays." — Bacon  holds  his  place  in  literature,  how- 
ever, not  by  reason  of  the  Novum  Organum  (which  is  in 
Latin)  and  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  but  by  reason  of 
his  Essays.  The  Essays  were  at  first  mere  jottings  down  of 
stray  ideas,  brief  note-book  memoranda.  As  such  they  were 
first  published  (then  ten  in  number)  in  1597,  in  the  author's 
thirty-sixth  year.  Fifteen  years  later  they  were  issued 
again,  with  additions;  and  in  1625  they  were  put  forth 
in  final  form,  the  essays  now  numbering  fifty-eight,  the  old 
ones  revised  and  expanded.  It  is  clear  that  their  charm 
grew  upon  Bacon,  and  urged  him,  half  against  his  will,  to 
put  more  and  more  serious  effort  into  the  handling  of  a 
language  for  which,  in  comparison  with  Latin,  he  had  no 
great  respect,  yet  of  which  he  is  one  of  the  greatest  masters. 

The  Essays  deal  with  many  subjects,  of  public  and  pri- 
vate conduct,  of  statecraft,  of  human  passions  and  human 
relations;  and  with  these  graver  themes  are  intermingled 
others  of  a  lighter  sort,  on  building,  on  the  planting  of  gar- 
dens, on  the  proper  mounting  and  acting  of  masques.  To  a 
modern  understanding  those  which  deal  with  the  deeper  ques- 
tions of  human  nature  are  apt  to  seem  somewhat  shallow 
and  worldly  wise.  We  get  from  them  few  large  insights  or 
generous  points  of  view;  everywhere  we  find  wit,  keen  ob- 
servation, grave  or  clever  worldly  wisdom.  Now  and  again, 
to  be  sure,  Bacon  startles  us  with  an  altogether  unworldly 
sentence,  such  as  this:  "Little  do  men  perceive  what  solitude 
is,  and  how  far  it  extendeth;  for  a  crowd  is  not  company, 
and  faces  are  but  a  gallery  of  pictures,  and  talk  but  a  tink- 
ling cymbal,  where  there  is  no  love.1'  Some  of  the  essays, 
such  as  the  one  entitled  "Of  Great  Place,"  show  an  un- 
worldly wisdom  which,  if  applied  to  Bacon's  own  life,  would 
have  made  it  a  very  different  thing.  Not  seldom,  too,  he  lifts 
the  curtain  upon  that  inner  passion  of  his  existence,  the 
•ihirst  for  intellectual  truth,  which  made  him  noble  in  spite 


Sir  Thomas  Browne  135 

of  the  shortcomings  of  his  character:  "Truth,"  he  says, 
"which  only  doth  judge  itself,  is  the  sovereign  good  of 
human  nature." 

Bacon's  Style. — For  the  student  of  expression,  Bacon's 
essays  are  of  endless  interest  and  profit ;  the  more  one  reads 
them,  the  more  remarkable  seem  their  compactness  and  their 
vitality.  When  the  bulk  of  English  prose  was  being  written 
in  loose  sentences  of  enormous  length,  Bacon  struck  out  a 
thoroughly  modern  sentence,  short,  crisp,  and  clear.  His 
style  has  a  curious  sharp  emphasis,  a  tone  of  startling 
authority  and  command.  The  essays  shock  a  sluggish  atten- 
tion into  wakefulness  as  if  by  an  electric  contact ;  and  though 
they  may  sometimes  fail  to  nourish,  they  can  never  fail  to 
stimulate. 

Bacon  represents  the  scientific  curiosity  of  the  later  Renais- 
sance. The  mystical  and  religious  thought  of  the  age  is 
equally  well  represented  by  a  writer  whose  style  is  as  ornate 
as  Bacon's  is  simple — Sir  Thomas  Browne. 

III.     SIR   THOMAS    BROWNE    (1605-1682) 

Browne  as  a  Mystic  :  The  "  Religio  Medici." — Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  after  studying  medicine  at  the  famous  schools  of 
Montpellier  in  FrarCe  and  Padua  in  Italy,  settled  as  a  physi- 
cian at  Norwich,  in  Norfolk,  and  there  passed  his  life.  In 
1642  appeared  his  first  work,  Religio  Medici,  a  confession 
of  his  own  personal  religious  creed.  It  is  in  essence  a  mystical 
acceptance  of  Christianity.  "Methinks,"  he  says,  "there 
be  not  impossibilities  enough  in  religion  for  an  active  faith 
.  .  .  I  love  to  lose  myself  in  a  mystery;  to  pursue  my 
reason  to  an  O  AltitudoV  This  sense  of  solemn  exaltation, 
this  losing  of  himself  in  a  mystery,  is  Browne's  charac- 
teristic mood.  We  see  in  him  how  far  the  temper  of  men 
had  departed  from  the  Elizabethan  zest  of  life,  from  the 
Renaissance  delight  in  the  stir  and  bustle  of  human  activity. 
"Methinks,"  he  says,  "I  begin  to  be  weary  of  the  sun.  The 
world  to  me  is  but  a  dream  and  mock-show,  and  we  all 
therein  but  pantaloons  and  antics,  to  my  severer  contem- 
plations." 


136      The  Seventeenth  Century 

Browne  as  a  Writer :  The  "  Urn  Burial." — It  was  not  until 
long  after  the  Civil  War  had  ceased  to  shake  the  earth  with 
its  "drums  and  tramplings"  that  Sir  Thomas  Browne  pub- 
lished his  most  famous  piece,  the  Urn  Burial  (1658).  It  was 
suggested  by  the  finding  of  some  ancient  Roman  funeral 
urns  buried  in  the  earth  in  the  neighborhood  of  Norwich. 
It  pretends  to  be  an  inquiry  into  the  various  historic  methods 
of  disposing  of  the  dead,  but  is  in  fact  a  sermon  upon  the 
vanity  of  earthly  ambition,  especially  in  its  attempt  to  hand 
on  mortal  memory  to  future  ages. 

Like  almost  all  the  writers  of  his  time,  Browne  is  extremely 
uneven;  his  great  passages  come  unexpectedly,  but  these 
have  a  pomp  and  majesty  which  even  Milton  has  not  sur- 
passed. His  English  is  full  of  large-sounding  words  coined 
from  the  Latin,  and  the  music  of  his  periods  is  deep,  stately, 
and  long-drawn,  like  that  of  an  heroic  funeral  march  or  the 
full-stop  of  a  cathedral  organ.  The  opening  of  the  last 
section  of  the  Urn  Burial  will  serve  perhaps  to  make  these 
comparisons  clear:  "Now,  since  these  dead  bones  have  al- 
ready outlasted  the  living  ones  of  Methuselah,  and  in  a  yard 
under  ground,  and  thin  walls  of  clay,  outworn  all  the  strong 
and  specious  buildings  above  it ;  and  quietly  rested  under  the 
drums  and  tramplings  of  three  conquests:  what  prince  can 
promise  such  diuturnity  unto  his  reliques?"  The  way  in 
which  his  imagination  plays  through  his  thought  and  flashes 
a  sudden  illumination  of  beauty  over  his  pages,  may  be  sug- 
gested by  these  words,  written  one  night  when  he  had  sat  late 
at  his  desk :  "  To  keep  our  eyes  open  longer  were  but  to  act  our 
Antipodes.    The  huntsmen  are  up  in  America!" 

IV.    THE   CAVALIER   POETS,    HERRICK,    AND   WALTON 

By-Paths  in  Seventeenth  Century  Literature. — It  is  natural 
in  an  intensely  serious  age  like  the  seventeenth  century,  that 
literature  should  escape  here  and  there  with  delight  into  a 
world  of  care-free  pleasure.  Such  a  wandering  in  flowery 
by-paths  we  may  see  in  the  amatory  verse  of  the  Cavalier 
poets,  Carew,  Lovelace,  and  Suckling;  in  the  lyrics  of  love 
and  country  life  of  Herrick;  and  in  Walton's  famous  little 


Her  rick  and  Walton  137 

book  upon  the  art  of  angling,  the  humblest  but  one  of  the 
best-beloved  of  English  classics. 

The  Cavalier  Poets. — Of  the  three  poets  whose  connection 
with  the  court  of  Charles  I.  have  given  them  the  title  of 
"Cavalier  Poets,"  the  eldest  was  Thomas  Carew  (1598- 
1638?).  His  best  known  lyric  is  "Give  me  more  love  or 
more  disdain,"  in  which  his  felicity  and  courtly  charm  dis- 
play themselves  at  their  height.  Carew  died  in  1638,  just 
before  the  bursting  of  the  storm  which  was  to  scatter  the  gay 
society  of  Whitehall,  and  bring  to  poverty,  exile,  and  death 
the  men  and  women  for  whom  he  had  sung. 

Richard  Lovelace  (1618-1658)  and  John  Suckling  (1609- 
1641)  were  young  courtiers  of  wealth  and  great  social  bril- 
liance, who  practised  poetry  much  as  they  practised  swords- 
manship, facility  in  turning  a  sonnet  or  a  song  being  still,  as 
in  the  Elizabethan  age,  considered  a  part  of  a  courtier's 
education.  Each  of  them  wrote,  it  would  seem  almost  by 
happy  accident,  two  or  three  little  songs  which  are  the  per- 
fection of  melody,  grace,  and  aristocratic  ease.  Suckling's 
tone  is  cynical  and  mocking;  the  best  songs  of  Lovelace,  on 
the  other  hand,  "To  Lucasta,  on  Going  to  the  Wars,"  and 
"To  Althea  from  Prison,"  breathe  a  spirit  of  old-fashioned 
chivalry,  of  faithfulness  to  the  ideals  of  love  and  knightly 
honor.  Both  Suckling  and  Lovelace  met  with  tragic  reversal 
of  fortune ;  and  the  contrast  between  their  careless,  brilliant 
youth,  and  their  wretched  death,  has  thrown  about  their 
names  a  romantic  glamour  which  has  had  perhaps  as  much 
to  do  with  preserving  their  fame  as  the  tiny  sheaf  of  lyrics 
they  left  behind. 

Robert  Herrick. — Robert  Herrick  (1 591-1674)  was  born  in 
London,  and  apprenticed  in  boyhood  to  his  uncle,  a  gold- 
smith in  Cheapside.  After  some  time  spent  at  Cambridge, 
he  returned  to  London  in  his  thirtieth  year,  and  lived  on  his 
wits  in  the  literary  bohemia  of  the  Inns  of  Court.  In  1629, 
having  taken  orders,  he  was  presented  by  King  Charles  to 
the  vicarage  of  Dean  Prior,  in  Devonshire.  Here,  with  no 
duties  to  perform  save  the  reading  of  a  weekly  sermon  to  a 
handful  of  sleepy  parishioners,  he  had  ample  opportunity, 
during  the  next  nineteen  years,  to  develop  his  lyrical  gifts. 


138  The  Seventeenth  Century 

His  genius  was  of  the  kind  which  carves  cherry-stones,  not 
of  the  kind  which  hews  great  figures  from  the  living  rock. 
Left  perfectly  to  himself,  amid  the  flowers  of  his  vicarage 
garden,  with  the  pretty  traditional  ceremonies  and  merry- 
makings of  country  life  to  look  at,  he  spent  his  days  carving 
cherry-stones  indeed,  but  giving  to  them  the  delicate  finish  of 
cameos  or  of  goldsmith's  work.  In  poem  after  poem  he 
enters  into  the  homely  joys  and  pageants  of  rural  life — a 
bridal  procession,  a  cudgel-play  between  two  clowns  on  .the 
green,  a  puppet-show  at  the  fair,  the  hanging  of  holly  and 
box  at  Candlemas  Eve.  Perhaps  the  most  exquisite  of  all 
is  "Corinna  going  a- Maying."  This  little  masterpiece  is 
drenched  with  the  pungent  dews  of  a  spring  morning.  As 
the  poet  calls  his  "sweet  slug-a-bed"  out  of  doors,  and  leads 
her  through  the  village  streets,  already  decked  with  white- 
thorn, .toward  the  fields  and  woods  where  the  May-day  fes- 
tivities are  to  be  enacted,  we  feel  that  the  poetry  of  old  English 
life  speaks  through  one  who  has  experienced  to  the  full  its 
simple  charm.  Even  the  note  of  sadness  at  the  end,  the  look- 
ing forward  to  that  dark  time  when  Corinna  herself  and  all 
her  village  mates  shall  "lie  drowned  in  endless  night,"  has 
a  peasant-like  sincerity  of  feeling. 

Herrick's  Religious  Poetry. — When  the  parliamentary 
forces  had  gained  the  battle  which  they  had  been  waging 
with  the  king's  men,  and  Herrick  as  a  loyalist  was  ejected 
from  his  living,  he  went  back  to  London.  The  year  of  his 
return  (1648)  he  published  his  poems,  under  the  title  of  Hes- 
perides  and  Noble  Numbers,  the  latter  half  of  the  title  re- 
ferring to  the  religious  poems  of  the  collection.  There  could 
be  no  more  striking  sign  of  the  immense  religious  ferment 
of  the  time  than  these  poems,  coming  as  they  do  from  a 
pleasure-loving,  pagan  nature,  whose  philosophy  of  life  is 
summed  up  in  his  most  famous  song,  "Gather  ye  rosebuds 
while  ye  may."  In  the  wonderful  poem  called  "  The  Litany," 
the  masterpiece  among  Herrick's  religious  poems,  we  see 
how  upon  even  his  gay  and  sensuous  nature  there  descended 
at  times  that  dark  shadow  of  religious  terror  which  later  found 
its  final  and  appalling  expression  in  the  Grace  Abounding 
of  John  Bunyan. 


John  Milton  139 

Isaak  Walton. — Isaak  Walton  (i  593-1683)  is  one  of  the 
best  remembered  of  the  many  seventeenth  century  writers 
who  took  refuge  from  the  troubled  spirit  of  their  age,  in  the 
celebration  of  simple  country  pleasures.  He  was  a  London 
linen-draper,  who  spent  his  working  days  in  measuring  cloth 
and  serving  his  customers  over  the  shop  counter;  but  who 
passed  his  holidays  in  quite  another  fashion,  roaming  with 
fishing-rod  and  basket  along  the  banks  of  streams,  and 
gazing  with  unspoiled  eyes  at  the  unspoiled  peace  and 
gayety  of  nature.  His  "Complete  Angler"  was  printed  in 
1653,  amid  the  fierce  political  and  religious  agitations  of  the 
Commonwealth;  but  a  sweeter  or  more  untroubled  book 
has  never  been  written.  It  is  one  of  the  most  endeared  of 
English  classics,  and  will  be  read  with  delight  when  a  thou- 
sand more  imposing  works  have  been  forgotten. 


V.    JOHN   MILTON    (1608-1674) 

Introduction. — In  the  great  struggle  between  the  king  and 
parliament,  between  the  old  order  and  the  new  in  government, 
religion,  and  social  life,  the  poets  ranged  themselves  almost 
to  a  man  on  the  side  of  the  king.  But  the  greatest  of  all,  and 
next  to  Shakespeare  the  mightiest  spirit  in  the  history  of  the 
English  imagination,  was  a  Puritan.  In  John  Milton  the 
passion  for  liberty  and  the  spiritual  earnestness  which  were 
at  the  heart  of  Puritanism,  found  themselves  for  once  united 
with  the  poet's  passion  for  beauty  and  the  great  artist's  power 
of  expression.  The  result  of  this  fusion  was  a  character  and 
an  achievement  which,  whether  we  regard  Milton  as  poet  or 
as  patriot,  must  compel  the  wondering  veneration  of  men. 

Milton's  Youth. — John  Milton  was  born  December  9,  1608, 
in  Bread  Street,  London.  His  father  was  a  scrivener  (notary 
public),  who  had  embraced  the  Puritan  faith.  During  Mil- 
ton's boyhood,  England  was  still  Elizabethan ;  geniality  and 
charm  of  life  had  not  yet  given  place  to  that  gloomy  harsh- 
ness which  Puritanism  afterward  took  on.  Milton  was  taught 
music,  and  was  allowed  to  range  at  will  through  the  English 
poets ;  among  these  Spenser,  the  poet  of  pure  beauty,  exercised 


JOHN   MILTON 
From  an  engraving  by  Humphreys  after  the  Faithorne  portrait 


John  Milton  141 

over  him  a  spell  which  was  to  leave  its  traces  upon  all  the 
work  of  his  early  manhood.  He  entered  Christ's  College, 
Cambridge,  in  his  sixteenth  year.  He  had  already  deter- 
mined to  be  a  poet,  and  that  too  in  no  ordinary  sense.  His 
mind  was  fixed  on  lofty  themes,  and  he  believed  that  such 
themes  could  be  fitly  treated  only  by  one  who  had  led  a  lofty 
and  austere  life.  The  magnificent  ode,  "  On  the  Morning  of 
Christ's  Nativity,"  which  deals  with  the  signs  and  portents 
filling  the  world  at  the  Saviour's  birth,  was  written  at  twenty- 
one.  It  showed  clearly  that  another  mighty  poet  had  been 
given  to  England. 

Milton's  Residence  at  Horton. — Two  years  later  Milton 
left  Cambridge  and  went  to  Horton,  a  little  village  west  of 
London,  whither  his  father  had  retired  to  spend  his  declining 
days.  Here,  in  a  beautiful  country  of  woods,  meadows  and 
brimming  streams,  the  young  poet  spent  five  quiet  years. 
To  the  outward  view  he  was  all  .but  idle,  merely  "  turning 
over  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics  "  in  a  long  holiday.  Really 
be  was  hard  at  work,  preparing  himself  by  meditation,  by 
communion  with  nature  and  with  the  lofty  spirits  of  the 
past,  for  some  achievement  in  poetry  which  (to  use  his  own 
words)  England  "would  not  willingly  let  die."  The  chief 
immediate  result  was  the  descriptive  poem  in  two  parts, 
"L'  Allegro"  and  "HPenseroso,"  the  masque  Comus  and 
the  elegy  "Lycidas." 

Milton's  Public  Career  and  Prose  Writings. — The  twenty 
years  of  Milton's  public  life  were  preceded  by  a  period  of 
travel  abroad  (1638-1639),  chiefly  in  Italy.  Here  he  met 
Galileo,  was  entertained  by  the  Italian  literary  academies; 
and  pondered  much  upon  a  projected  epic  poem  on  the  sub- 
ject of  King  Arthur's  wars,  a  subject  suggested  to  him  by 
the  epics  of  Tasso  and  Ariosto.  His  return  was  hastened 
by  news  of  King  Charles's  expedition  against  the  Scots, 
a  step  whose  seriousness  Milton  well  knew.  Once  back  in 
London,  he  was  drawn  into  a  pamphlet  war  on  the  ques- 
tion of  church  government.  Then  followed  his  marriage 
to  Mary  Powell,  the  daughter  of  a  cavalier  squire.  The 
marriage  was  ill-starred.  After  his  wife's  temporary  deser- 
tion of  him  Milton  published  several  pamphlets  on  divorce. 


142  The  Seventeenth  Century 

These  were  received  with  astonishment  and  execration  by 
his  countrymen,  who  did  not  see  that  Milton  was  only  bring- 
ing to  bear,  upon  one  issue  of  domestic  life,  that  free  spirit 
of  question  everywhere  spreading  change  through  the  social 
fabric  of  England.  Milton's  revolutionary  spirit  next  led 
him  to  attack  the  censorship  of  the  press.  The  time-honored 
institution  of  the  censorship  he  saw  to  be  an  intolerable  hin- 
derance  to  freedom  of  thought;  and  in  a  pamphlet  entitled 
Areopagitica,  the  greatest  of  his  prose  writings,  he  launched 
against  it  all  the  thunders  and  lightnings  of  his  magnificent 
rhetoric.  On  the  execution  of  the  king  (1649)  Milton  was 
the  first  to  lift  up  his  voice,  amid  the  hush  and  awe  of  con- 
sternation, in  defence  of  the  deed.  His  pamphlet  "On  the 
Tenure  of  Kings  and  Magistrates"  was  of  such  timely  ser- 
vice to  the  Commonwealth  party  that  he  was  offered  the 
position  of  Latin  secretary  to  Cromwell's  government,  his 
duties  being  to  indite  correspondence  with  foreign  powers, 
and  to  reply  to  attacks  by  foreign  pamphleteers.  In  the 
midst  of  a  controversy  of  this  sort  his  eyes  failed,  and  ii> 
a  short  time  he  was  totally  blind.  He  continued  his  duties., 
with  the  help  of  an  amanuensis,  until  he  was  dismissed  in 
1658  by  General  Monk,  who  was  already  plotting  to  restore 
Charles's  son  to  the  throne,  as  King  Charles  II.  On  the 
king's  return  in  1660,  Milton  was  forced  to  go  into  hiding, 
and  he  barely  escaped  paying  with  his  life  for  his  fearless 
support  of  the  Commonwealth  party. 

Milton's  Return  to  his  Poetic  Mission. — During  the  long 
period  of  his  public  career,  from  1642  to  1658,  Milton  wrote 
no  poetry  except  a  few  sonnets.  These  are  sixteen  in  num- 
ber. Some  of  them,  such  as  the  famous  sonnet  on  the  mas- 
sacre of  the  Piedmontese  Protestants  by  the  Catholic  soldiery, 
deal  with  public  affairs.  Others  are  personal.  Among  these 
last  the  finest  are  two  upon  his  own  blindness,  and  one  upon 
the  memory  of  his  second  wife,  Katherine  Woodcock,  who 
had  died  in  the  first  year  of  their  marriage. 

Except  for  these  brief  returns  to  his  poetic  mission,  Milton 
had  hidden  "that  one  talent  which  is  death  to  hide."  But 
he  had  more  than  once  turned  aside,  in  his  pamphlets,  to 
throw  out  a  proud  hint  concerning  the  work  laid  upon  him 


John  Milton  143 

by  the  great  Task-master,  of  adding  something  majestic 
and  memorable  to  the  treasury  of  English  verse.  Ever  since 
his  college  days  he  had  looked  forward  to  this  work,  con- 
sidering many  subjects  in  turn.  By  1642  he  had  virtually 
decided  upon  the  subject  of  the  Fall  of  Adam.  During  the 
sixteen  years  between  1642  and  his  dismissal  from  the  Latin 
secretaryship,  amid  all  the  "noises  and  hoarse  disputes"  of 
the  time,  this  subject  lay  in  his  mind,  gradually  gathering  to 
itself  the  riches  of  long  study  and  reflection.  When  at  last 
his  duty  as  a  patriot  was  done,  he  turned  at  once  to  his  de- 
ferred task.  Forced  to  seek  shelter  from  the  storm  of  the 
royalist  reaction,  he  carried  with  him  into  his  hiding  place  the 
opening  book  of  Paradise  Lost,  begun  two  years  earlier.  The 
poem  was  finished  by  1665,  and  was  published  by  an  obscure 
printer  in  1667. 

In  167 1,  foUr  years  after  the  publication  of  Paradise  Lost, 
appeared  Milton's  third  volume  of  verse.  (The  college  and 
Horton  poems  had  been  published  in  1645.)  It  consisted  of 
Paradise  Regained,  a  supplement  to  Paradise  Lost;  and  of 
Samson  Agonistes,  a  drama  in  the  Greek  manner,  on  an  Old 
Testament  subject  which  Milton  had  thought  of  treating 
nearly  thirty  years  before. 

Milton's  Last  Years. — Milton  lived  for  three  years  after  the 
publication  of  his  last  poems.  Much  of  his  patrimony  had 
disappeared  in  the  readjustments  of  the  Restoration,  and  in 
the  great  London  fire  of  1666;  but  he  was  still  able  to  live  in 
modest  comfort.  The  painter  Richardson  gives  us  a  glimpse 
of  the  poet  during  his  last  years,  as  he  was  led  about  the 
streets  clad  "in  a  gray  camblet  coat,"  or  as  he  sat  at  the 
door  of  his  house,  near  Bunhill  Fields,  to  receive  visitors. 
"Lately,"  continues  Richardson,  "I  had  the  good  fortune  to 
have  another  picture  of  him  from  an  aged  clergyman  in  Dor 
setshire.  In  a  small  house,  up  one  pair  of  stairs  which  was 
hung  with  rusty  green,  he  found  John  Milton,  sitting  in  an 
elbow  chair;  black  clothes,  and  neat  enough;  pale  but  not 
cadaverous,  his  hands  and  fingers  gouty  and  with  chalk- 
stones."  The  picture  makes  us  realize  how  far  Milton  had 
traveled  from  the  world  of  his  youth.  In  making  himself 
over  from  Elizabethan  to  Cromwellian  he  had  suffered  muck 


144  The  Seventeenth  Century 

and  renounced  much ;  he  had  lost  many  of  those  genial  human 
qualities  which  have  won  for  less  worthy  natures  a  warmth 
of  love  denied  to  his  austerity.  But  though  some  may  deny 
him  love,  none  can  help  feeling  an  admiration  mixed  with 
awe,  for  the  loftiness  and  singleness  of  aim,  the  purity  and 
depth  of  moral  passion,  which  make  him  conspicuous  even 
among  the  men  of  those  moving  times. 

"  L 'Allegro  "  and  "  II  Penseroso." — The  first  product  of 
the  five  happy  and  fruitful  years  which  Milton  spent  at  Hor- 
ton,  was  the  poem  in  two  parts,  "L'Allegro"  (the  joyous 
man)  and  "II  Penseroso  "  (the  meditative  man).  The  poem 
is,  in  a  sense,  autobiographical.  The  two  parts  paint  the 
two  sides  of  Milton's  own  temperament :  the  one  urging  out- 
ward, toward  the  brightness  and  vivid  activity  of  life;  the 
other  drawing  inward,  toward  lonely  contemplation,  or  mus- 
ings upon  the  dreamier,  quieter  aspects  of  nature  and  of 
human  existence.  To  represent  these  two  moods  he  imagines 
two  typical  youths,  living  each  through  a  day  of  typical 
thoughts  and  pursuits.  The  first  poem  opens  at  morning, 
with  the  song  of  the  lark,  the  rising  sun  "  beginning  his  state," 
the  ploughman's  whistle  and  the  hunter's  horn  sounding  in 
the  clear  air.  The  day  is  followed  through  its  course  in  a 
series  of  happy  pictures,  ending  with  merry-making  and  fairy 
tales  by  the  evening  fire.  The  music  in  which  "  the  joyous 
man"  delights  is  the  rebeck  (a  rustic  violin),  and  he  finds  his 
reading  in  the  pages  of  gay- colored  romances,  in  dramas  and 
poems,  through  which  play  the  sunlight  of  life.  "II  Pen- 
seroso," on  the  other  hand,  opens  at  midnight,  when  the 
moon  is  stooping  through  the  cloud-drift,  and  the  song  of  the 
nightingale,  "most  musical,  most  melancholy,"  is  flooding  the 
air.  When  day  appears,  the  "meditative  man"  shuns  the 
sunlit  activity  of  the  waking  world  and  goes  to  dream  in 
shadowy  groves  and  in  the  "dim  religious  light"  of  cathedral 
aisles.  His  music  is  that  of  the  solemn  organ,  and  his 
books  are  stately  tragedies  and  epics.  The  poem  closes  with 
the  poet's  wish  that  he  may  live  thus,  in  solitude  and  medita- 
tion, 

"  till  old  experience  do  attain 
To  something  like  prophetic  strain." 


John  Milton  145 

Taken  together  the  two  little  poems  represent,  under  a 
slight  veil,  the  life  which  Milton  led  during  the  five  happy 
years  at  Horton. 

"  Comus." — The  next  two  poems  of  this  period  were  in 
masque  form;  one  a  fragment,  "Arcades,"  the  other  a  com- 
plete masque,  taking  its  title  from  the  chief  character,  Comus, 
god  of  revelry.  Comus  was  written  at  the  request  of  Mil- 
ton's friend  Henry  Lawes,  a  musician,  who  supplied  the 
music,  and  played  the  part  of  the  Attendant  Spirit  when  the 
masque  was  presented  (1634)  at  Ludlow  Castle,  on  the 
Welsh  border,  to  celebrate  the  installation  of  the  Earl  of 
Bridge  water  as  Lord  President  of  Wales.  It  is  not  known  * 
whether  the  poet  was  present  on  the  occasion;  but  in  any 
case  it  is  strange  to  see  Milton,  who  was  soon  to  become  a 
stern  fighter  in  the  Puritan  ranks,  making  his  first  great  poetic 
effort  in  the  drama,  which  the  Puritan  party  hated,  and  in 
that  form  of  the  drama,  the  masque,  which  was  most  closely 
associated  with  the  court.  Even  here,  however,  the  serious- 
ness of  the  young  Puritan's  view  of  life  and  art  are  ap- 
parent. 

The  plot  of  Comus  is  simple  and  very  effective.  Two 
brothers  and  a  sister,  astray  by  night  in  the  forest,  become 
separated;  the  girl  is  taken  captive  by  Comus,  the  son  of 
Bacchus  the  wine-god  and  Circe  the  enchantress.  He  leads 
her  to  the  place  where  he  dwells  surrounded  by  strange  half- 
bestial  creatures  whom  he  has  transformed.  He  attempts 
to  work  upon  her  the  same  transformation.  She  resists  him, 
refusing  to  yield  to  the  allurements  of  sense,  and  is  at  length 
rescued  by  her  brothers  and  an  "attendant  spirit,"  who  takes 
the  guise  of  their  father's  shepherd.  Though  in  the  masque 
form,  Comus  has  none  of  the  frivolity  which  usually  marked 
the  masque.  It  contains,  in  fact,  a  whole  philosophy  of 
conduct,  and  preaches  the  doctrine  of  purity  of  life. 

"  Lycidas." — "Lycidas"  is  an  elegy  upon  the  death  of 
Edward  King,  a  college  mate  of  Milton's,  drowned  in  the 
Irish  Sea.  King  ha'd  been,  in  his  way,  a  poet ;  and  it  was 
usual  among  the  poets  of  the  pastoral  school,  to  represent 
themselves  and  their  art  under  the  guise  of  the  shepherd 
life.     Milton,   therefore,   represents  himself  and  his  dead 


146  The  Seventeenth  Century 

friend  as  shepherds  driving  their  flocks,  and  piping  for  fauns 
and  satyrs  to.  dance ;  he  calls  the  sea-nymphs  and  the  gods 
of  the  wind  to  task  for  the  disaster  of  his  fellow-shepherd's 
death.  To  this  "pastoral"  symbolism,  however,  Milton 
adds  another  kind,  not  pagan,  but  Christian.  King,  besides 
being  a  poet,  had  been  a  preacher,  or  at  least  had  been  in 
preparation  for  the  ministry.  He  was  therefore  not  only  a 
shepherd  under  Apollo,  but  a  shepherd  under  Christ;  a 
keeper  of  the  souls  of  men,  which  are  the  flocks  of  the  Good 
Shepherd.  This  second  symbolism  Milton  boldly  identifies 
with  the  first,  for  to  him  the  poet  and  the  preacher  were  one 
in  spiritual  aim.  Still  more  boldly,  in  the  strange  procession 
of  classic  and  pseudo-classic  divinities  whom  he  summons  to 
mourn  over  Lycidas,  he  includes  Saint  Peter,  the  bearer  of 
the  keys  of  the  Church ;  and  he  puts  in  his  mouth  words  of 
solemn  wrath  and  warning  against  the  ecclesiastical  corrup- 
tion of  the  age.  "  Lycidas  "  is  the  last  work  of  Milton's 
young  manhood,  binding  together  his  happy  and  sheltered 
youth  with  his  maturity  of  strife  and  renunciation. 

"Paradise  Lost." — The  theme  which  Milton  first  seriously 
considered  in  his  search  for  an  epic  subject,  was  the  story  of 
King  Arthur,  as  it  had  been  handed  down  by  Geoffrey  of 
Monmouth  and  Sir  Thomas  Malory.  If  his  life  as  a  poet 
had  not  been  interrupted,  he  would  perhaps  have  treated 
this  subject,  making  out  of  it  an  epic  of  ideal  England,  that 
ideal  England  which  swam  before  Milton's  inward  vision, 
as  it  had  done  before  Spenser's.  But  with  the  years  of  his 
delay,  Milton's  ambition  grew.  The  subject  which  he  finally 
decided  upon  was  wider  than  his  own  nation,  even  in  its 
ideal  aspect.  It  dealt  with  the  origin  and  spiritual  destiny 
of  all  mankind.  Its  action  stretched  beyond  the  created 
universe,  into  Heaven  and  Hell,  and  reached  backward 
beyond  the  beginning  of  time. 

The  Story  of  "Paradise  Lost." — The  action  of  Paradise 
Lost  begins  in  Heaven,  before  man  is  created,  or  the  earth 
and  its  spheres  hung  out  in  space.  Lucifer,  the  fairest  and 
mightiest  of  the  angels,  jealous  of  the  Son  who  shares  God's 
throne,  rebels,  and  draws  with  him  a  third  part  of  the  hosts 
of  Heaven.    Lucifer  and  the  apostate  angels  flee  to  their 


John  Milton  147 

stronghold  "in  the  north."  Tremendous  battle  ensues  be- 
tween the  hosts  of  the  rebellious  and  the  faithful.  For  three 
days  the  struggle  endures,  and  the  issue  is  still  doubtful. 
But  now  the  Son  goes  forth  to  battle,  riding  upon  a  living 
chariot,  and  clad  in  supernal  powers  and  glories.  Lucifer 
and  his  followers  are  cast  headlong  from  Heaven.  For 
nine  days  and  nights  they  fall  through  empty  chaos,  into  the 
Hell  which  has  been  hollowed  out  of  space  to  receive  them. 
Then  Christ,  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  goes  forth  into 
chaos,  and  marks  out  the  vast  sphere  of  the  universe,  with 
Earth  at  the  centre.  The  six-day  process  of  creation  fol- 
lows. Man,  as  the  first  of  created  things,  is  set  in  the 
Garden  of  Eden,  to  take  the  place  of  the  rebel  angels  in 
God's  affection.  A  helpmeet  is  given  to  Adam,  a  woman 
formed  from  his  rib  while  he  slept.  The  wedded  pair,  per- 
fect in  beauty  and  innocence,  dwell  together  in  the  happy 
garden,  the  favorites  of  nature  and  of  God.  Archangels 
visit  them,  and  eat  of  the  fruits  of  their  pleasant  toil.  Heav- 
enly warriors  keep  watch  over  their  safety.  But  meanwhile 
Lucifer,  now  known  as  Satan,  the  Adversary,  brooding  upon 
revenge,  conspires  with  the  leaders  of  his  host  in  Hell  to 
destroy  the  newly-created  pair  or  seduce  them  into  disobe- 
dience to  God.*  At  a  great  meeting  at  the  infernal  capital, 
Pandemonium,  Satan  proposes  to  make  his  way  across  the 
darkness  of  chaos,  and  to  attempt  some  deed  of  enmity 
against  Earth  and  its  fair  inhabitants.  He  succeeds  in 
accomplishing  his  tremendous  journey,  in  eluding  the  ser- 
aphic sentinels,  and  in  entering  the  Garden.  He  perches 
"like  a  cormorant"  on  the  Tree  of  Life;  then,  transforming 
himself  into  various  shapes  of  serpent,  beast,  and  bird,  he 
spies  upon  Adam  and  Eve.  Once  he  is  found  by  the  arch- 
angel Ithuriel,  in  shape  "like  a  toad,  squat  at  the  ear  of  Eve," 
whispering  evil  dreams  to  her  as  she  sleeps.  He  escapes,  and 
circles  for  three  days  and  nights  through  space,  keeping  in 
the  earth's  shadow.    Again  he  steals  into  Paradise,  this  time 

*  It  is  at  this  point  that  the  first  book  of  Paradise  Lost  takes  up  the  story. 
The  earlier  events  are  related  in  subsequent  books  by  the  archangel  Lucifer 
and  by  Adam.  Milton  follows  the  example  of  Virgil  in  thus  beginning  his 
epic  in  the  middle  of  the  action. 


148  The  Seventeenth  Century 

through  an  underground  stream.  In  the  form  of  a  glittering 
serpent  he  tempts  Eve  to  eat  of  the  forbidden  Tree.  She 
does  so,  and  Adam  shares  with  her  the  fatal  fruit.  A  shudder 
runs  through  all  creation;  the  face  of  nature  is  darkened; 
restlessness  and  evil  passion  take  the  place  of  contentment 
and  purity  in  the  hearts  of  the  doomed  pair.  In  a  vision 
Adam  is  shown  the  future  history  of  the  world,  and  the  coming 
of  Christ  to  redeem  man  from  his  fallen  state.  Then  flaming 
swords  drive  Adam  and  Eve  from  the  garden  into  the  gloomy 
wilderness,  to  earn  their  bread  by  the  sweat  of  their  brow, 
to  suffer  all  mortal  pain  and  sorrow  and  infirmity. 

The  Central  Motive  of  "  Paradise  Lost." — The  actual  story 
of  the  temptation  and  fall,  it  will  be  seen,  occupies  a  rela- 
tively small  space  in  the  poem;  yet  it  is  this  which  "motives" 
and  organizes  the  whole ;  it  is  this  from  which  it  all  radiates 
and  toward  which  it  all  converges.  In  however  vast  a  circle 
the  great  action  may  sweep  outward,  the  human  pair  in  the 
garden  is  the  centre  of  the  curve.  Every  episode  of  the 
poem,  throughout  its  majestic  course,  depends  for  its  signif- 
icance upon  the  fate  of  the  human  pair,  in  whom  are  the 
issues  of  all  human  life.  Only  a  poet  of  the  most  wonderful 
grasp,  the  most  supreme  sense  of  form,  could  have  thus  given 
organic  shape  to  such  vast  and  varied  materials. 

The  Character  of  Satan. — Critics  have  often  declared  that 
the  real  hero  of  Paradise  Lost  is  Satan.  They  have  pointed 
out  that,  in  spite  of  himself,  Milton  sympathized  with  Satan 
as  an  arch-rebel  against  authority;  for  was  not  Milton 
himself  a  rebel,  not  against  the  unchangeable  will  of  the 
Almighty,  but  against  a  king  who  sought  to  wield  by  "di- 
vine right"  an  irresponsible  authority?  The  criticism  is  so 
far  true  that  in  the  earlier  books  the  character  of  Satan 
and  his  outward  aspects  are  invested  with  a  wonderful  dig- 
nity. He  appears  indeed  not  "less  than  archangel  ruined." 
But  as  the  poem  progresses,  Satan's  figure  is  shorn  beam 
by  beam  o*  <ill  its  baleful  splendor.  His  character  loses 
its  dignity.  He  ceases  to  be  the  fallen  "Son  of  the  Morn- 
ing." As  the  lust  of  evil  gnaws  deeper  and  deeper  into  his 
heart,  he  degenerates  into  "the  father  of  lies,"  the  snaky  and 
subtle  foe  who  cares  not  how  he  attain  his   hateful  ends. 


John  Milton  149 

This  degeneration  of  Satan  under  his  own  evil  passions  is 
one  of  the  largest  conceptions  of  the  poem.  It  disposes  of 
the  often-urged  objection  that  Satan  is  the  hero  of  Paradise 
Lost,  and  that  therefore  the  poem  is  at  war  with  itself. 

Milton's  "  Sublimity." — The  word  "sublimity,"  so  often 
abused,  has,  in  the  case  of  Paradise  Lost,  real  fitness.  It 
was  a  quality  to  which  Milton  attained  only  after  much 
stern  experience.  Without  those  silent  years  when  his  im- 
agination was  held  back  by  his  will,  gaining  momentum  like 
the  dammed-up  waters  of  a  stream,  he  would  possibly  never 
have  attained  that  peculiar  mightiness  of  imagery  and  phrase 
which  causes  Paradise  Lost  to  deserve,  as  does  perhaps  no 
other  work  of  literature,  the  epithet  sublime.  The  art  of 
"L'Allegro"  and  "Comus,"  graceful  as  the  tracery  of  danc- 
ing figures  about  a  Greek  vase,  gave  place,  in  Paradise  Lost, 
to  an  art  as  massive  and  severe  as  the  frescoes  of  Michel- 
angelo, depicting  the  solemn  scenes  of  the  creation  and  de- 
struction of  the  world. 

The  Verse  of  "  Paradise  Lost." — For  his  epic  Milton  de- 
liberately chose  blank  verse,  as  the  most  severe  of  English 
measures ;  but  he  made  out  of  it  a  type  of  verse  before  un- 
known. The  chief  peculiarity  of  this  later  Miltonic  verse  is 
that  the  sense  is  held  suspended  through  many  lines,  while 
clause  after  clause  comes  in  tQ  enrich  the  meaning  or  to 
magnify  the  descriptive  effect;  then  the  period  closes,  and 
this  suspended  weight  of  meaning  falls  upon  the  mind  like 
the  combing  mass  of  a  breaker  on  the  shore.  A  second  im- 
portant characteristic  is  the  extreme  variety  of  pause;  the 
sense  comes  to  an  end,  and  the  suspended  thought  falls,  at 
constantly  varying  places  in  the  line,  a  device  by  which  blank 
verse,  monotonous  when  otherwise  treated,  becomes  the  most 
diversified  of  rhythms.  In  these  and  other  ways  Milton  made 
for  himself  a  sublime  verse-instrument  to  match  his  sublime 
imagery  and  theme.  The  music  of  the  Horton  poems,  com- 
pared with  that  of  Paradise  Lost,  is  like  the  melody  of  the 
singing  voice  beside  the  manifold  harmonies  of  an  orchestra, 
or  the  rolling  chant  of  a  cathedral  organ. 

"Paradise  Regained  "  and  "  Samson  Agonistes." — Para- 
dise Regained  was  intended,  as  its  title  shows,  as  a  sequel 


150  The  Seventeenth  Century 

to  Paradise  Lost.  In  his  first  epic  Milton  had  shown  how 
mankind,  in  the  person  of  Adam,  falls  before  the  wiles  of 
the  Tempter,  and  becomes  an  outcast  from  divine  grace;  in 
his  second  he  shows  how  mankind,  in  the  person  of  Jesus, 
wins  readmission  to  divine  grace  by  withstanding  the  temp- 
tation of  Satan  in  the  wilderness.  By  general  consent  Para- 
dise Regained  is  given  a  lower  place  than  Paradise  Lost. 
Samson  A  gonistes,  however,  a  venture  in  a  new  field  of  poetry, 
shows  Milton's  genius  at  its  height  once  more.  His  desire 
was  to  bring  over  into  English  the  gravity  and  calm  dignity 
of  the  Greek  tragedies;  and,  avoiding  the  lifeless  effect  of 
previous  experiments  of  the  sort,  to  give  to  his  grave  and 
calm  treatment  the  passion,  the  conviction,  the  kindling 
breath  without  which  poetry  cannot  exist.  Two  circum- 
stances made  this  not  only  easy,  but  almost  inevitable  for 
him.  In  the  first  place  his  character,  lofty  and  ardent  to 
begin  with,  had  now  under  misfortune  and  sacrifice  taken  on 
just  that  serene  and  melancholy  gravity  peculiar  to  the  great 
tragic  poets  of  antiquity.  In  the  second  place,  the  story  of 
Samson  was,  in  a  sense,  his  own  story.  Like  Samson  he  had 
fought  against  the  Philistines  with  the  strength  of  thirty  men ; 
he  had  taken  a  wife  from  among  his  enemies  and  suffered 
bitter  loss  at  her  hands;  he  sat  now,  blind  and  dishonored, 
amid  the  triumph  of  the  Cavaliers,  as  Samson  among  the 
holiday-making  Philistines.  As  he  wrote,  his  own  personal 
bitterness  found  veiled  expression;  and  the  grand  choruses, 
with  their  dark  and  smothered  music,  pulsate  with  personal 
feeling. 

The  grandeur  of  Milton's  character,  and  the  grandeur  of 
his  art,  become  more  striking  when  we  view  them  against 
the  background  of  the  age  into  which  he  survived,  and  in 
which  he  did  his  later  work.  This  was  the  age  of  the  Restora- 
tion, an  age  absorbed  in  worldly  pleasures,  in  love  with 
"common-sense"  and  intolerant  of  ideals.  We  come  now 
to  another  great  Puritan  writer  who  did  his  work  in  this 
same  alien  period,  John  Bunyan. 


John  Bunyan  151 


VI.  John  Bunyan  (1628-1688) 

The  King  James  Bible. — Bunyan,  the  rude  tinker  of  El- 
stow,  who  produced,  without  learning  or  literary  example, 
one  of  the  greatest  masterpieces  of  imaginative  English  prose, 
can  only  be  understood  by  reference  to  another  and  greater 
literary  phenomenon  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  Au- 
thorized Version  of  the  Bible.  This  version  was  made  by 
order  of  James  I.;  the  work  was  divided  among  numerous 
churchmen  of  his  appointment,  and  was  finished  in  161 1. 
The  translators  used  not  only  the  original  Hebrew  and  Greek 
texts,  and  the  Latin  Vulgate,  but  also  the  various  English 
translations  from  Wyclif  down.  They  succeeded  in  blending 
together  the  peculiar  excellences  of  all  these,  with  the  result 
that  we  possess  in  the  King  James  Bible  a  monument  of 
English  prose  characteristic  of  no  particular  age,  but  gather- 
ing up  into  itself  the  strength  and  sweetness  of  all  ages.  The 
grandeur,  simplicity,  and  force  of  biblical  prose,  acting  upon 
Bunyan's  passionately  earnest  imagination,  made  him,  all 
unknown  to  himself,  a  great  writer. 

Bunyan's  Early  Life;  "  Grace  Abounding." — John  Bunyan 
was  born  in  the  village  of  Elstow,  Bedfordshire.  His  father 
was  a  tinker,  a  trade  then  considered  little  above  vagabond- 
age. After  a  slight  schooling,  and  a  short  experience  of 
soldiering  in  the  Civil  War  (on  which  side  is  unknown),  he 
married  a  wife  as  poor  as  himself,  and  took  up  his  father's 
trade  of  pot  and  kettle  mender.  Before  this,  however,  there 
had  begun  in  him  a  spiritual  struggle  so  terrible  and  so  vivid, 
as  we  see  it  in  the  pages  of  his  Grace  Abounding  to  the 
Chief  0}  Sinners  (published  1666),  that  by  contrast  the 
events  of  his  outer  life  are  pallid  and  unreal.  As  he  wrestled 
and  played  at  "tip-cat"  with  his  village  mates  on  the  green, 
or  stood  in  the  tower  of  the  church  to  watch  the  bell-ringing, 
he  was  haunted  by  thoughts  of  sudden  death,  of  the  Judg- 
ment Day,  and  of  his  soul's  damnation.  He  saw  an  awful 
Face  looking  down  from  the  clouds,  and  heard  a  Voice  asking 
whether  he  would  leave  his  sins  and  go  to  Heaven,  or  have 


152  The  Seventeenth  Century 

his  sins  and  go  to  Hell.  The  tiles  upon  the  house-roofs, 
the  puddles  in  the  road,  spoke  to  him  with  voices  of  tempta- 
tion and  mockery.  From  this  religious  insanity  he  was 
rescued  by  a  Mr.  Gifford,  a  local  preacher,  who  gave  him 
comfort  and  courage.  Soon  Bunyan  himself  began  to  preach ; 
and  a  revulsion  of  feeling  now  lifted  him  to  heights  of  ecstatic 
joy  in  the  mercifulness  of  God  and  the  beauty  of  holiness. 
He  saw  Christ  himself  looking  down  at  him  through  the 
tiles  of  the  house-roof,  saying  "My  grace  is  sufficient  for 
thee";  and  the  sense  of  salvation  came  like  a  "sudden 
noise  of  wind  rushing  in  at  the  window,  but  very  pleasant." 
In  all  this  we  see  in  its  most  intense  form  the  religious 
excitement  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  also  the  qualities 
of  imagination  and  feeling  which  make  Bunyan  so  powerful 
a  writer.  > 

Bunyan 's  Later  Life  :  "  Pilgrim's  Progress." — At  the  Res- 
toration, persecution  of  the  nonconformist  sects  began. 
Bunyan  was  arrested  for  holding  illegal  religious  meetings; 
and  he  spent  the  next  twelve  years  in  confinement,  earning 
bread  for  his  family  by  putting  tags  to  shoe  laces,  and  keeping 
his  mind  awake  by  writing  what  he  was  no  longer  at  liberty 
to  speak.  In  the  midst  of  a  sober  controversial  work,  he 
happened  to  employ  the  trite  metaphor  of  a  journey,  to  typify 
the  Christian  life.  At  once  the  figure  began  to  grow  and 
blossom ;  a  throng  of  pictures  and  dramatic  incidents  started 
up  before  his  mind.  Almost  before  he  knew  it  the  metaphor 
had  grown  into  a  book,  and  The  Pilgrim's  Progress,  one 
of  the  three  great  allegories  of  the  world's  literature,*  was 
written.     It  was  published  in  1678. 

It  furnished  the  simple  Bedfordshire  cottagers,  for  whom 
it  was  written,  with  a  reflection  of  their  own  inmost  struggles 
and  aspirations,  in  a  form  which  combined  the  fascinations 
of  the  novel,  the  fairy-tale,  and  the  romance  of  adventure. 
The  novel,  the  great  literary  discovery  of  the  next  century, 
appears  here  in  its  germ.  Not  only  is  the  physical  world 
through  which  Christian  journeys  from  the  "Wicket-gate" 
to  the  Land  of  Beulah,  pictured  with  the  most  familiar 

*  The  others  alluded  to  are  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene  and  Dante's  Divine 
Comedy. 


John  Bunyan  153 

realism,  but  the  wayfarers  whom  he  meets  are  such  as  might 
have  been  seen  in  Bunyan's  day  on  any  English  market  road 
— portly  Mr.  Worldly-Wiseman,  full  of  prudential  saws; 
blundering,  self-confident  young  Ignorance;  "gentlemanlike" 
Demas;  and  sweet  talkative  Piety.  The  landscape,  the 
houses,  the  people,  are  all  given  with  quaint  sturdy  strokes 
which  stamp  them  upon  the  memory  forever;  so  that  it  is 
almost  impossible  for  a  reader  of  Pilgrim's  Progress  to 
think  of  the  journey  otherwise  than  as  a  real  personal  ex- 
perience. And  added  to  the  charm  which  the  book  has  as 
realism,  is  its  charm  as  romance.  If,  in  one  sense,  it  may 
be  said  to  have  ushered  in  the  eighteenth  century  novel,  in 
another  it  may  be  said  to  have  revived  the  mediaeval  romance, 
in  which  the  hero  was  made  to  contend  against  dangers  natural 
and  supernatural,  on  the  way  to  the  goal  of  his  desires. 
Giant  Despair  in  his  grim  castle,  the  obscene  devils  creeping 
and  muttering  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow,  the  dreadful 
enemy  Apollyon,  the  angels  and  archangels  who  lead  the 
way,  with  harpings  and  hosannas,  from  the  dread  River  of 
Death  to  the  shining  gates  of  the  Celestial  City,  give  to  the 
story  a  fascinating  element  of  marvel  and  adventure.  If  we 
add  to  this  the  charm  of  its  style,  so  quaintly  graphic,  so  hu- 
morously direct,  so  tender  and  rich  and  lyrical  when  the 
author  is  moved  by  the  beauty  of  his  vision,  it  seems  no 
matter  for  surprise  that  Pilgrim'' s  Progress,  before  Bunyan's 
death,  was  read  with  delight  not  only  throughout  England, 
but  in  France,  in  Holland,  and  in  the  far-off  colonies  of 
America. 

End  of  the  Romantic  Literature  of  the  Century. — Paradise 
Lost  and  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  are  the  two  great  final 
products  of  that  intellectual  and  artistic  revival  which  we 
call  the  Renaissance,  and  of  that  religious  revival  which  we 
call  the  Reformation.  They  mark  the  end  of  the  stream 
of  literature  which  flows  down  into  the  second  half  of  the 
seventeenth  century  from  its  source  in  the  later  reign  of 
Henry  VIII.  and  in  the  early  Elizabethan  age.  We  must 
in  the  next  chapter  consider  a  school  of  literature  of  a  very 
different  kind,  which  began  in  a  revolt  against  the  reigning 
"romantic"  style,  and  which  at  the  Restoration  assumed  an 


154      The  Seventeenth  Century 

authority  which  it  maintained  uninterruptedly  for  nearly  a 
hundred  years. 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— Review  what  is  said  of  Wyclif  and  Lollardry, 
and  of  the  Puritan  spirit  in  Langland,  in  Chapter  IV.  Review  also 
what  is  said  of  the  Reformation,  in  Chapter  V.  It  will  be  clear  that 
the  Puritan  movement  of  Milton's  age  was  the  result  of  a  long  growth. 
How  did  the  increased  knowledge  of  the  Bible  during  Elizabeth's  reign 
affect  the  popular  mind?  How  did  the  strict  Puritan  view  of  life 
express  itself  in  costume,  manners,  etc.  ?  Give  a  brief  summary  of  the 
struggle  between  the  Parliament  and  the  King;  of  the  Civil  War,  and 
the  events  leading  up  to  the  recall  of  Charles  II.  to  the  throne.  What 
great  intellectual  revolution  accompanied  the  political  and  religious 
disturbances  of  the  age?  Who  is  the  chief  representative  of  this  new 
intellectual  movement  ? 

Give  a  brief  outline  of  Bacon's  life.  What  was  the  scope  of  the 
work  Bacon  proposed  to  himself  ?  Explain  the  scientific  principle  of 
investigation  advocated  by  Bacon,  and  contrast  it  with  the  mediaeval 
method  of  reasoning,  which  he  wished  to  supplant.  Instance  one 
or  more  modern  scientific  theories  which  have  been  established  by 
the  "inductive"  process  of  investigation.  By  what  work  does  Bacon 
hold  his  place  in  English  literature  ?  What  was  his  opinion  of  English 
as  a  literary  language  ?  What  kinds  of  subjects  are  treated  in  Bacon's 
essays;  and  what  is  the  general  character  of  the  thought  in  them  ?  If 
possible,  compare  one  of  Bacon's  essays  named  in  the  reading-list  be- 
low, with  a  passage  of  Milton's  prose,  and  note  the  contrast  in  style 
between  the  short,  crisp  sentences  of  the  former  and  the  long,  roll- 
ing sentences  of  the  latter. 

What  side  of  the  seventeenth  century  spirit  is  shown  by  Sir  Thomas 
Browne?  What  is  the  theme  of  the  "Religio  Medici";  of  the  "Urn 
Burial "  ? 

Why  were  the  Cavalier  poets  so-called  ?  They  are  the  successors 
of  Wyatt,  Surrey,  and  the  "courtly  makers"  of  the  age  of  Henry  VIII. 
and  Elizabeth;  they  express  the  lighter  and  brighter  view  of  life  which 
was  held  by  the  early  Renaissance,  hence  the  sharp  contrast  they 
present  with  the  general  tone  of  literature  in  their  own  time,  when 
the  Reformation  had  given  a  serious  cast  to  the  minds  of  most  writers. 
If  possible  read,  in  the  Golden  Treasury,  Lovelace's  "  To  Lucasta," 
and  note  the  evidence  in  it  of  the  author's  "  spirit  of  old-fashioned 


Review  Outline  155 

chivalry,"  his  "  faithfulness  to  the  ideals  of  love  and  knightly  honor.'* 
Where  and  under  what  conditions  was  the  greater  part  of  Herrick's 
poetry  written  ?  Put  in  unfigurative  language  the  judgment  of  Her- 
rick;s>  genius  expressed  under  the  metaphor  of  the  cherry-stone.  What 
were  the  two  bents  of  thought  and  feeling  displayed  by  Herrick? 
Which  seems  the  expression  of  his  more  constant  nature  ?  Can  you 
gather  from  what  is  said  of  Walton  the  reason  for  his  occupying  a  per- 
manent place  in  the  affection  of  English  readers  ? 

By  a  comparison  of  dates,  select  from  the  following  writers  those 
who  were  alive  during  Milton's  boyhood,  and  whom  he  may  conceiv- 
ably have  met  in  the  streets  of  London:  Spenser,  Raleigh,  Shake- 
speare, Ben  Jonson,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  Bacon.  How  old  was  Milton 
when  Shakespeare  left  London  ?  What  was  Milton  doing  in  the  year 
of  Jonson's  death  ?  Restate  the  facts  of  Milton's  early  education  and 
surroundings  which  were  important  in  determining  his  character.  Note 
that  on  the  moral  side  his  education  was  Puritan  in  the  strict  sense, 
but  on  the  literary  and  artistic  side  that  it  was  the  liberal  education  of 
the  Renaissance.  May  not  something  similar  be  said  concerning  all 
Milton's  poetry?  How  early  did  Milton  dedicate  himself  to  poetry, 
and  what  was  his  ideal  of  the  poet's  character?  What  important 
poem  had  he  written  before  leaving  college  ?  Describe  his  life  at  Horton, 
and  its  effect  upon  his  taste,  skill,  and  temperament.  Name  the 
chief  poems  of  the  Horton  period.  In  what  way  do  "  Comus  "  and 
"  Lycidas  "  reflect  the  growing  seriousness  of  Milton's  mind  ?  The 
date  of  "Comus"  shows  that  it  may  have  been  a  part  of  the  dem- 
onstration made  by  sympathizers  with  the  theatre  as  a  reproof  to 
Puritan  persecution  of  the  stage.  Connect  this  with  the  sympathy 
for  the  drama  expressed  in  "  L' Allegro  "  and  "  II  Penseroso."  Show 
how  unlike  the  sour  and  narrow  view  of  life  held  by  the  more  fanat- 
ical Puritans  is  the  view  taken  by  Milton  in  these  two  pieces.  What 
later  work  of  Milton's  is  in  dramatic  form?  In  connection  with 
"Comus"  review  what  is  said  of  the  masque-form  as  developed  by 
Jonson,  and  note  the  particulars  in  which  Milton's  poem  answers  to  the 
general  description.  Where,  and  on  what  occasion  was  "Comus  "  pre- 
sented ?  What  is  the  "  teaching  "  of  "  Comus,"  and  what  allegorical 
means  are  taken  to  bring  it  out  ?  What  are  the  two  forms  of  sym- 
bolism used  in  "  Lycidas  ?  "  Which  of  these  was  conventional  ? 
What  moved  Milton  to  add  the  second  form? 

What  important  events  intervened   in   Milton's  life  between  his 


156  The  Seventeenth  Century 

sojourn  at  Horton  and  his  life  in  the  diplomatic  service  ?  Did  Milton 
write  any  poetry  while  engaged  in  work  for  the  government?  Name 
the  sonnets  of  Milton  which  have  the  greatest  autobiographic  interest. 
How  do  we  know  that  he  was  not  forgetful  of  his  great  purpose? 
To  what  circumstance  is  his  blindness  attributed  ? 

"What  subject  did  Milton  at  first  intend  to  use  for  a  great  epic  ? 
By  what  poet  of  our  own  time  has  this  subject  been  treated  ?  What 
national  events  finally  gave  Milton  leisure  to  write  "  Paradise  Lost"  ? 
When  was  it  published  ?  How  long  had  he  had  the  subject  in  mind 
before  he  began  to  write  ?  Restate  in  your  own  words  the  story  of 
"  Paradise  Lost."  The  story  is  not  presented  in  the  poem  in  the  nat- 
ural order  of  events ;  explain  what  the  difference  is,  and  upon  what  liter- 
ary tradition  it  rests.  Notice  that  the  theme  of  "  Paradise  Regained  "  is 
suggested  at  the  end  of  "  Paradise  Lost "  ;  by  what  means  ?  By  what 
"central  motive "  is  the  whole  action  held  together  ?  Why  is  it  an 
untrue  criticism  to  say  that  Satan  is  the  hero  of  the  epic  ?  What 
connection  is  here  traced  between  the  personal  experiences  of  Milton 
and  the  grandeur  of  style  in  his  later  work  ?  Why  did  he  choose  blank 
verse  ?  For  what  purpose  had  blank  verse  been  chiefly  used  up  to 
this  time  ?  Describe  as  clearly  and  simply  as  possible  the  two  great 
characteristics  of  Milton's  blank  verse.  Compare  the  first  fifteen  or 
twenty  lines  of  "Paradise  Lost"  with  a  passage  from  one  of  Shakespeare's 
plays,  such  as  the  speech  of  Portia  before  the  judges;  notice  how  much 
longer  the  sense  is  suspended  in  Milton,  and  how  much  less  simple  is 
the  grammatical  structure  of  the  sentences.  Make  clear  in  what  way 
Milton's  second  epic  supplements  the  thought  of  the  first.  In  what 
respects  may  his  last  poem  be  taken  as  an  allegory  of  his  own  life, 
private  and  public  ? 

When  was  the  King  James  or  Authorized  version  of  the  Bible  made  ? 
Review  the  history  of  the  English  Bible  up  to  this  point,  beginning 
with  the  partial  translations  made  in  Anglo-Saxon  times.  What  was 
the  effect  of  the  Bible  upon  Bunyan  as  a  writer?  Narrate  the  facts 
of  Bunyan's  early  life  which  typify  the  religiou".  excitement  of  the 
period.  In  what  work  has  he  made  a  revelation  of  his  religious  state 
of  mind  ?  How  did  Bunyan's  masterpiece  come  to  be  written  ?  Ex- 
plain the  double  connection  of  "Pilgrim's  Progress  "  with  the  obsolete 
mediaeval  romance  and  the  future  eighteenth  century  novel.  Review 
the  great  names  which  make  up  the  line  of  imaginative  writers  begin- 
ning with  Wyatt  and  Surrey,  and  ending  with  Bunyan.     Notice  that 


Reading  Guide  157 

only  one  of  these,  Ben  Jonson,  is  "  classic  "  in  his  sympathies;  he  is 
the  only  one  who  insists  first  of  all  on  correctness  and  restraint; 
all  the  others  are  "  romantic,"  that  is  they  care  for  beauty  and  energy 
of  expression  first  of  all.  Milton  holds  a  middle  position;  can  you 
explain  how? 

READING  GUIDE.— Milton —All  members  of  the  class  should 
read,  at  least,  "  L'Allegro  "  and  "  II  Penseroso,"  "  Comus,"  the  first 
three  books  and  the  ninth  book  of  "Paradise  Lost."  Good  school 
editions  are  abundant.  The  most  convenient  complete  editions  are  the 
Globe  (Macmillan),  and  the  Cambridge  (Houghton,  Mifflin'). 

If  a  supplement  is  desired  for  the  biographical  matter  given  in  the 
text,  either  the  life  of  Milton  by  R.  Gamett,  in  the  Great  Writers 
series,  or  that  by  M.  Pattison,  in  the  English  Men  of  Letters  series, 
will  furnish  abundant  material.  An  excellent  short  biography,  by  D. 
Masson,  is  prefixed  to  the  Globe  edition.  Lowell's  essay  on  Milton, 
in  "  Among  My  Books,"  and  Matthew  Arnold's,  in  "  Essays  in  Criti- 
cism," will  be  found  of  value  in  giving  a  larger  view  of  Milton's  place 
in  English  poetry.  Macaulay's  essay  on  Milton  gives  an  admirable 
study  of  the  social  and  political  aspects  of  Puritanism.  This  may  be 
supplemented  by  Chapter  IX.  of  Green's  "  Short  History  of  England," 
and  by  Macaulay's  "  Conversation  Between  Mr.  Abraham  Cowley  and 
Mr.  John  Milton  Touching  the  Great  Civil  War."  In  Ruskin's  "  Se- 
same and  Lilies  "  may  be  found  an  illuminating  passage  in  interpreta- 
tion of  "  Lycidas."  Interpretative  studies  of  all  Milton's  poems,  and  a 
translation  of  his  Latin  and  Italian  verses,  are  given  in  the  Cambridge 
edition. 

The  routine  of  class  work  will  probably  allow  little  time  for  the  first- 
hand study  of  the  other  writers  of  this  period;  but  ambitious  students 
will  be  interested  to  do  some  reading  in  them  independently.  Among 
Bacon's  essays  the  following  are  recommended:  Truth,  Adversity,  Envy, 
Love,  Great  Place,  Travel,  Wisdom  for  a  Man's  Self,  Friendship,  Dis- 
course, Gardens,  Studies.  Bacon's  Essays  are  included  in  CasselPs 
National  Library,  and  in  Morley's  Universal  Library,  and  a  good 
selection  from  them  is  given  in  Number  3  of  Maynard's  English 
Classics. 

The  pieces  of  Herrick  and  the  Cavalier  poets  given  in  Palgrave's 
Golden  Treasury  or  in  Ward's  English  Poets,  should  by  all  means 
be  read.     For  those  who  wish  to  learn  more  of  Herrick,  the  selections 


158  The  Seventeenth  Century 

from  his  poetry  published  in  the  Golden  Treasury  series  is  recom- 
mended. A  delightful  essay  upon  Herrick  can  be  found  in  E.  Gosse's 
"  Seventeenth  Century  Studies."  Walton's  "  Complete  Angler "  and, 
Bunyan's  "  Grace  Abounding "  can  be  had  in  Cassell's  National 
Library.  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress "  is  published  in  the  Riverside 
Literature  series.  "  Grace  Abounding,"  in  spite  of  its  somewhat  dry- 
sounding  title,  is  a  most  picturesque  and  absorbing  book.  Bunyan's 
"  Holy  War  "  is  certain  to  prove  interesting  to  students,  especially  to 
boys.  Volunteer  reports  upon  these  two,  or  portions  of  them,  and 
upon  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  or  some  portion  thereof,  can  hardly 
fail  to  furnish  an  interesting  hour. 


Tabular  View 


159 


CHAPTER   IX 
THE   RESTORATION 

I.    INTRODUCTION 

Political  History  of  the  Restoration  Era. — The  year  1660 
marks  the  return  of  Charles  II.  to  the  throne  which  his 
father  had  lost,  and  the  beginning  of  an  era  known  as  the 
period  of  the  Restoration.  Historically  the  age  is  in  sharp 
contrast  with  the  grea:  century  that  began  in  1558  with  the 
accession  of  Elizabeth.  That  epoch  was,  as  we  have  seen, 
one  of  intense  national  and  individual  energy,  of  zealous  de- 
votion to  religious  and  political  ideas  which  finally  involved 
the  country  in  civil  war.  In  the  age  of  the  Restoration  men 
were  weary  of  all  this  excitement  and  turmoil,  and  ready 
to  accept  any  system  which  promised  order  and  peace. 
The  king  himself  was  idle  and  pleasure-loving,  indis- 
posed to  take  the  trouble  to  push  his  royal  prerogative 
to  extremes,  and  inclined  to  a  do-nothing  foreign  policy. 
Under  his  rule  England  sank  from  the  great  position  in 
European  affairs  which  she  had  held  under  Cromwell,  to 
that  of  paid  ally  of  the  French  king.  The  reign  of  Charles  II. 
was  marked  by  such  public  calamities  as  the  Great  Plague  in 
1665,  and  the  Fire  of  London  in  1666;  but  neither  these  nor 
the  misfortunes  of  foreign  war,  in  the  course  of  which  the 
Dutch  fleet  entered  the  Thames,  stirred  the  English  people 
from  its  lethargy.  Only  when,  after  the  death  of  the  king  in 
1685,  his  brother,  who  succeeded  him  as  lames  II.,  at- 
tempted to  undo  the  work  of  the  Reformation,  did  the  nation 
rise,  and,  by  the  Revolution  of  1688,  set  aside  the  male  line 
of  the  House  of  Stuart  and  placed  upon  the  throne  the 
daughter  of  James  II.,  Mary,  and  her  husband,  William  of 
Orange. 

Social  and  Literary  Tendencies. — The  contrast  between 
the  age  of  Elizabeth  and  that  of  Charles  II.  is  as  strongly 

160 


Introduction  161 

marked  in  social  and  intellectual  life.  The  former  period 
was  a  time  when  the  unmeasured  possibilities  of  the  new 
world  of  the  Renaissance  gave  scope  to  the  far-reaching 
desires  of  men.  The  imagination,  whether  dealing  with 
knowledge  as  in  Bacon,  or  with  human  power  as  in  Mar- 
lowe, or  with  the  things  of  faith  as  in  Milton,  took  wings  to 
itself  and  flew.  In  the  Restoration  era,  on  the  contrary,  men 
were  content  to  remain  at  peace  within  the  limits  of  the 
world  of  things  which  they  could  see  and  touch.  In  science 
they  gave  themselves,  not  to  visions  of  all  knowledge,  but  to 
patient  investigation  of  facts  immediately  about  them;  in 
statecraft  they  imagined  no  Utopias,  but  worked  out  prin- 
ciples of  practical  politics  and  party  government;  in  social 
life  they  had  learned  to  fear  the  spirit  of  individualism,  lead- 
ing to  such  violent  contrasts  as  that  between  Cavaliers  and 
Puritans,  and  therefore  tried  to  set  up  ideals  of  life  in  ac- 
cordance with  reason  and  "  common-sense,"  to  which  all 
men  should  conform.  The  literature  of  the  time  is  a  faith- 
ful reflection  of  these  tendencies.  It  is  largely  concerned 
with  the  facts  of  the  immediate  world  of  London,  with  con- 
temporary men  and  politics,  and  with  social  life.  And  it 
reflects  the  spirit  of  uniformity  in  the  agreement  of  writers, 
both  in  prose  and  poetry,  upon  rules  and  principles  in  ac- 
cordance with  which  they  should  express  themselves.  The 
acceptance  of  these  literary  conventions,  drawn  from  the 
practice  of  writers  of  the  past,  marks  the  difference  between 
the  classic  age  of  Dryden  and  Pope,  and  the  romantic  epoch 
of  Spenser  and  Shakespeare. 

French  Influence. — In  this  difference  the  influence  of 
France  counted  for  much.  There  the  reaction  against  the 
poetic  license  of  the  Renaissance  had  set  in  somewhat 
earlier.  Its  result  is  seen  in  the  work  of  Corneille  and 
Racine,  who  developed  a  drama  on  the  lines  of  Latin  tragedy, 
succeeding  where  the  English  classicists  of  the  sixteenth 
century  had  signally  failed.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
many  Englishmen  of  the  class  which  cared  for  literature 
and  the  stage,  spent  years  of  exile  in  France,  and  naturally 
came  to  accept  the  principles  of  French  taste.  Through 
the  new  artistic  conceptions  brought  back  to  England  by  the 


162  The  Restoration 

exiles,  French  influence  upon  English  literature,  especially 
upon  the  English  drama,  was  strengthened.  To  their  no- 
tions of  refinement  the  license  of  the  older  dramatists  seemed 
uncouth.  "Ijhave  seen  Hamlet"  wrote  Evelyn,  "but  now 
these  old  plays  begin  to  disgust  this  refined  century,  since 
their  majesties  have  been  so  long  abroad." 

The  Heroic  Couplet. — The  most  striking  way  in  which 
English  poetry  reflected  the  spirit  of  the  new  era,  was  in 
its  substitution  of  a  single  form  for  the  lawless  variety  of 
the  age  which  had  gone  before.  This  form,  called  the  heroic 
couplet,  consisted  of  two  pentameter  lines  connected  by 
rhyme.  It  had  been  used  in  earlier  periods,  for  example 
by  Chaucer;  but  in  his  hands  the  couplet  had  not  been 
necessarily  a  unit,  the  thought  having  often  been  drawn  out 
into  the  succeeding  pair  of  verses,  with  no  pause  at  the 
rhyming  word.  The  literary  ideals  of  the  Restoration  may 
be  illustrated  by  the  comparison  of  a  few  lines  from  the 
prologue  to  the  Canterbury  Tales, 

"  A  knight  ther  was,  and  that  a  worthy  man, 
That  fro.  the  tyme  that  he  first  bigan 
To  ryden  out,  he  loved  chivalrye, 
Trouthe  and  honour,  fredom,  and  curteisy," 

with  these  from  the  chief  poet  of  the  Restoration,  John 
Dryden : 

"A  milk-white  hind,  immortal  and  unchanged, 
Fed  on  the  lawns,  and  in  the  forest  rang'd; 
Without  unspotted,  innocent  within, 
She  fear'd  no  danger  for  she  knew  no  sin." 

In  the  first,  it  is  clear,  the  couplet  exerts  little  control  over 
the  thought,  which  runs  on  into  the  second  pair  of  verses ;  in 
the  second  the  thought  is  limited  and  regulated  by  the  accept- 
ance of  a  precise  and  narrow  form ;  and  this  limitation  and 
regulation  were  the  chief  qualities  of  Restoration  poetry. 


John  Dry  den  163 


II.    JOHN   DRYDEN    (1631-1700) 

Dryden's  Early  Life. — Dryden  was  born  in  1631  at  Aid- 
winkle,  in  Northamptonshire,  his  parents  being  of  the  upper 
middle  class,  and  of  Puritan  sympathies.  He  was  sent  to 
Westminster  School,  and  thence,  in  1650,  to  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  where  he  remained  seven  years.  During  this 
time  his  father  died,  leaving  him  a  small  property.  His  first 
important  verse  was  an  elegy  on  the  death  of  Cromwell, 
written  in  1658.  Two  years  later,  however,  Dryden,  with 
the  mass  of  Englishmen,  had  become  an  ardent  royalist; 
and  he  welcomed  the  return  of  Charles,  in  a  poem  in  couplets 
called  "Astraea  Redux" — ("The  Return  of  the  Goddess  of 
Justice  ").  In  1663  he  married  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard,  a 
woman  of  higher  rank  than  his  own.  It  may  have  been 
the  desirability  of  increasing  his  income  that,  just  before 
this  marriage,  drove  Dryden  to  write  his  first  comedy,  The 
Wild  Gallant.  It  certainly  was  his  accumulating  financial 
necessities  that  kept  him  writing  for  the  stage  constantly 
down  to  1 68 1.  During  this  period  his  only  poem  of  impor- 
tance was  "Annus  Mirabilis"  (1667),  ("The  Wonderful 
Year"),  a  chronicle  of  events  of  the  preceding  year,  which 
had  been  distinguished  by  several  victories  at  sea  over  the 
Dutch,  and  by  the  great  London  fire. 

Dryden's  Satires. — In  1681  Dryden  began  the  succession  of 
political  poems  which  have  generally  been  accounted  his  best 
works.  The  times  were  troubled.  The  court  and  the  country 
were  divided  between  the  partisans  of  the  king's  brother,  who, 
though  a  Papist,  was  recognized  as  the  heir  to  the  throne, 
and  those  of  the  king's  illegitimate  son,  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth, whom  certain  persons  zealous  for  the  Protestant 
faith  were  disposed  to  set  up  as  a  rival  candidate.  The 
leader  of  the  latter  party  was  the  Earl  of  Shaftesbury.  In  the 
Bible  story  of  the  revolt  of  Absalom  against  King  David, 
Dryden  found  an  apt  parallel  to  existing  circumstances  in 
England;  and  his  satire  Absalom  and  Achitophel  exposed  the 
relations  of  Monmouth,  the  prince,  and  Shaftesbury,  the  evil 
counsellor,  with  merciless  humor.    The  poem  became  im- 


JOHN  DRYDEN 


John  Dry  den  165 

mensely  popular.  The  next  year  Dryden  followed  it  with 
a  second  blow  at  Shaftesbury  in  The  Medal.  Then  he 
turned  aside  in  MacFlecknoe  to  attack  a  rival  poet,  Shad- 
well,  who  had  been  employed  by  the  Whigs  to  reply  to  The 
Medal.  In  this  year,  also,  Dryden  extended  his  range 
into  the  field  of  religious  controversy,  with  Religio  Laid 
("The  Religion  of  a  Layman"),  a  very  temperate  statement 
of  a  layman's  faith  in  the  Church  of  England.  Three  years 
after  this  confession  of  faith  Dryden  became  a  Roman 
Catholic,  and  in  1687  he  published  a  political  defence  of  the 
Church  of  Rome  called  The  Hind  and  the  Panther. 

Dryden's  Later  Life. — This  political  and  religious  writing 
brought  Dryden  distinction  and  a  modest  income.  In  1670 
he  was  made  Historiographer  Royal  and  Poet  Laureate,  with 
a  salary  of  two  hundred  pounds  a  year.  Later  he  received 
a  pension  of  a  hundred  pounds  a  year,  and  in  1683  he  was 
made  Collector  of  the  Port  of  London.  All  these  honors  and 
emoluments  he  lost  in  consequence  of  the  Revolution  of  1688. 
He  was  obliged  to  betake  himself  again  to  the  stage  as  the 
most  lucrative  department  of  literature,  to  accept  aid  from  pri- 
vate patrons  in  place  of  the  royal  bounty,  to  contract  with 
Tonson,  the  book-seller,  to  produce  and  deliver  ten  thousand 
lines  of  verse  for  three  hundred  guineas,  and  to  undertake 
various  jobs  of  translation  for  the  same  employer.  In  short, 
in  his  old  age  Dryden  was  compelled  to  attempt  almost  all 
the  methods  by  which  a  literary  man  could  live.  Neverthe- 
less, his  production  in  these  years  added  much  to  his  fame. 
Whatever  may  be  thought  of  his  poetical  qualities,  at  least  his 
literary  energy  lasted  well.  His  work  of  this  time  includes  his 
translation  of  Virgil,  and  his  renderings  into  modern  English 
verse  of  stories  from  Chaucer,  among  which  the  Palamon 
and  Arcite  is  best  known.  These  twice-told  tales  were  pub- 
lished in  1 700,  in  a  volume  of  Fables,  which  contained  also  his 
best  lyrical  poem,  "Alexander's  Feast." 

Dryden  as  a  Literary  Dictator. — During  these  last  years 
Dryden  lived  constantly  in  London.  The  coffee-house  of 
that  day  was  the  chief  place  of  resort  for  literary  men,  much 
as  the  tavern  had  been  in  Elizabeth's  time.  At  Will's  or 
Button's  the  wits  gathered  for  exchange  of  courtesies  or  for 


166  The  Restoration 

combat ;  there  their  admirers  or  patrons  met  them ;  and  thence 
went  forth  the  criticism  that  made  or  marred  the  fortunes  of 
rising  men.  Dryden  frequented  Will's,  where  he  was  as 
much  a  monarch  as  Ben  Jonson  had  been  at  the  Mermaid, 
or  as,  a  century  later,  Samuel  Johnson  was  at  the  Literary 
Club.  At  Will's  he  is  pictured  for  us  by  tradition,  sitting 
in  his  arm-chair  on  the  balcony  in  summer,  and  before 
the  fire  in  winter,  burly  of  figure,  shrewd  and  kindly  of 
feature,  altogether  a  sound,  stalwart,  wholesome  man.  It 
was  to  Will's  that  young  Pope  was  brought  to  gaze  on  great- 
ness and  be  inspired ;  and  it  was  there  also  that  Dryden  dis- 
missed his  youthful  relative  with  the  pitying  words,  "Cousin 
Swift,  you  will  never  be  a  poet."  In  an  age  when  the  form 
of  poetry  was  all  but  rigidly  fixed,  the  acknowledged  master 
of  that  form  could  be  as  much  of  a  despot  as  he  chose. 

Dryden's  Character. — The  life  of  Dryden  seems  at  first 
sight  to  have  been  an  unheroic,  and  in  some  ways  an  ignoble 
one.  His  changes  of  side  from  Cromwellian  to  Royalist, 
from  Protestant  to  Romanist,  stand  out  in  unfavorable  con- 
trast to  the  devotion  of  men  like  More  and  Milton.  His 
concern  with  the  details  of  party  strife  is  sharply  opposed 
to  the  ideal  morality  of  Sidney  and  of  Spenser.  His  indif- 
ference in  matters  of  belief  seems  tame  and  watery  after  the 
flame-like  faith  of  Bunyan.  But  we  must  not  let  such 
comparisons  carry  us  too  far.  Dryden  illustrates  the  change 
from  the  virtues  of  Elizabethan  chivalry  and  Cromwellian 
fanaticism,  to  the  sober  commonplace  ethics  of  an  era  of 
reason.  His  tendency  to  shift  his  influence  to  the  winning 
side  was  in  part  the  patriotism  of  a  sensible  man  who  argued 
that  it  mattered  comparatively  little  whether  the  country 
was  ruled  by  Protector  or  King,  whether  it  worshipped  ac- 
cording to  Anglican  or  Catholic  rites,  so  long  as  it  was  at 
peace  under  institutions  which  were  strong  enough  to  curb 
individual  ambition. 

Dryden's  Poetry. — There  is  also  a  temptation  to  extend 
the  first  harsh  judgment  of  Dryden's  life,  to  his  poetry.  It, 
too,  lacks  elevation,  and  the  subject-matter  of  much  of  it, 
the  affairs  of  church  and  state,  is  remote  from  what  we  re- 
gard as  poetic.    But  in  his  writing  also  Dryden  responded 


John  Dry  den  167 

to  the  demands  of  his  age.  In  the  days  of  Charles  II.  men 
were  weary  of  revolution.  To  them  the  kingship  and  the 
church,  Anglican  or  Catholic,  were  interesting  and  beautiful 
because  they  represented,  for  the  mass  of  the  nation,  an  ideal 
of  order  and  restraint;  just  as  to  an  earlier  time  the  bound- 
less self-assertion  of  Faustus  and  Tamburlaine  had  been 
interesting  and  beautiful  for  the  opposite  reason. 

Not  only  the  substance,  but  the  form  of  Dryden's  verse 
has  been  a  ground  for  detraction  from  his  fame.  Few  poets 
of  the  modern  world  have  maintained  such  strict  uniformity. 
With  the  exception  of  the  lyrics  in  his  dramas,  of  several 
odes,  and  of  two  early  poems  in  the  heroic  stanza,  Dryden 
cultivated  steadily  the  heroic  couplet.  This  kind  of  verse 
appealed  with  irresistible  force  to  an  age  which  desired, 
above  all,  uniformity  and  regularity.  When  at  the  close  of 
Religio  Laid  Dryden  says, 

"  And  this  unpolished  rugged  verse  I  chose 
As  fittest  for  discourse,  and  nearest  prose," 

his  second  line  may  be  taken  as  referring  to  his  poems  in 
general.  In  them  we  look  for  the  virtues  of  prose  rather 
than  for  those  of  poetry;  for  the  useful  qualities,  exactness, 
clearness,  energy,  rather  than  for  imagination  and  suggestion; 
for  epigram  in  place  of  metaphor;  for  boldly  marked  rhythm 
instead  of  elusive  harmony. 

Dryden  as  Prose  Writer. — Dryden  was  not  only  the  fore- 
most poet,  but  also  the  most  copious  dramatist,  and  the 
chief  critic,  of  his  time.  The  age  of  the  Restoration  was 
a  period  of  criticism  rather  than  of  creation,  a  time  when 
men  were  interested  in  testing  the  product  of  earlier  ages, 
and  in  winnowing  the  good  from  the  bad.  This  interest 
accounts  for  the  fact  that  to  many  of  his  works  Dryden  pre- 
fixed one  or  more  critical  essays  in  the  form  of  dedications 
or  prefaces,  in  which  he  discussed  the  leading  artistic  ques- 
tions of  the  day.  Among  these  essays  the  most  important 
are  "An  Essay  of  Dramatic  Poesy"  (1668),  the  "Essay  on 
Satire"  (1693),  and  the  Preface  to  the  "Fables"  (1700). 
In  these  essays  Dryden  set  a  model  for  simple,  practical 


168  The  Restoration 

prose  style.  By  his  adoption  of  the  modern  sentence  in 
place  of  the  unit  of  great  and  unequal  length  used  by  Raleigh 
and  Milton,  he  carried  out  in  prose  a  change  exactly  anal- 
ogous to  that  accomplished  in  verse  by  his  adoption  of  the 
couplet  in  place  of  the  stanza.  In  short,  he  did  for  prose 
what  he  did  for  poetry ;  he  reduced  the  unit  of  treatment  to 
manageable  size;  he  set  an  example  of  correctness;  and 
finally,  by  his  authority,  he  did  much  to  establish  such  a 
standard  of  taste  as  should  render  henceforth  impossible  the 
eccentricities  to  which  the  preceding  century  had  been  in- 
dulgent. 


III.     SAMUEL    BUTLER    (l6l2-l68o),    SAMUEL    PEPYS    (1633- 
1703),    AND   THE   DRAMATISTS 

Butler's  "  Hudibras." — Like  Elizabeth  and  Charles  I., 
Charles  II.  held  in  some  sort  a  literary  court,  of  which  lyric 
poetry  and  satire  were  the  language.  The  courtly  poets  of 
the  time,  the  successors  of  the  Cavaliers,  caught  from  the 
king  an  attitude  of  moral  indifference.  In  their  circles  the 
most  popular  work  was  a  fierce  and  scurrilous  satire  upon 
the  Puritan,  Samuel  Butler's  Hudibras.  Butler  was  doubt- 
less meditating  his  attack  during  the  years  of  the  Protec- 
torate, when  he  was  acting  as  private  secretary  to  a  Puri- 
tan nobleman.  Three  years  after  the  accession  of  Charles 
II.,  he  published  three  cantos  of  a  poem  in  which  the  vices 
of  the  Puritan  period,  hypocrisy,  sanctimoniousness,  and 
intolerance,  are  presented  with  savage  exaggeration  in  the 
person  of  Sir  Hudibras.  This  knight,  with  his  squire  Ralpho, 
passes  through  a  series  of  quixotic  adventures,  which  are 
continued  in  further  instalments  of  the  poem,  published  in 
1664  and  1678. 

Pepys's  Diary. — While  Butler  and  the  Cavalier  poets  were 
embodying  the  mood  of  the  aristocracy,  Bunyan  was  writing 
his  Pilgrim 's  Progress  for  the  serious  lower  class,  where 
Puritanism  still  survived.  Between  these  extremes,  however, 
we  have  an  order  that  was  to  make  its  presence  felt  increas- 
ingly from  this  time  on,  the  upper-middle  class;  and  as  it 


Samuel  Pepys  169 

happens,  this  class  had,  in  the  late  seventeenth  century,  a 
figure  almost  as  representative  as  Bunyan.  Samuel  Pepys 
was  a  busy  man  of  affairs,  a  clerk  of  the  Navy  Board,  and 
secretary  of  the  Admiralty  under  James  II.  Between  1660 
and  1669  he  kept  a  diary  in  cipher,  which  he  left  with  his 
library  to  Magdalen  College,  Cambridge.  It  was  deciphered 
and  published  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  was  recognized 
at  once  as  a  personal  document  of  great  interest.       ( 

Pepys's  diary  is  scarcely  to  be  called  literature.  It  is  a 
transcript  of  the  observations,  doings,  thoughts,  and  feelings 
of  a  commonplace  burgher,  all  set  down  with  the  greatest 
fidelity.  If  Pepys  goes  on  a  picnic  he  mentions  the  time  of 
starting,  the  dishes  of  the  luncheon,  the  substance  of  the 
conversation  by  the  way,  the  company  he  met,  the  sheep 
which  he  saw  ("the  most  pleasant  and  innocent  sight  that 
ever  I  saw  in  my  life"),  the  shepherd  whose  little  boy  was 
reading  the  Bible  to  him,  the  flowers,  the  glow-worms  which 
came  out  in  the  evening,  and  the  slight  accident  by  which  he 
sprained  his  foot.  In  its  detail  the  diary  reflects  the  pa- 
tient, industrious  habits  by  which  business  and  science  were 
to  thrive  in  the  next  century — for  Pepys  was  a  scientist  and 
President  of  the  Royal  Society.  In  its  uniformity  of  tone, 
its  lack  of  emphasis  and  dramatic  interest,  it  illustrates 
again  the  sober  modernity  which  the  citizen's  life  was  be- 
ginning to  assume.  In  its  worldliness,  its  reflection  of  per- 
fectly unashamed  delight  in  mere  comfort,  well-being,  and 
success,  it  shows  the  bourgeois  ideal  of  life.  And  finally,  the 
pleasure  in  his  own  life,  which  sustained  the  author  in  the 
mechanical  toil  of  recording  its  happenings,  is  to  be  connected 
with  the  interest  in  human  life  in  general,  which  was  the  force 
behind  the  development  of  realistic  fiction  in  the  following 
century. 

The  Restoration  Drama. — One  result  of  the  Restoration 
was  to  re-open  the  theatres  of  London,  which  had  been  closed 
since  1642.  Though  the  great  generation  of  dramatists  had 
come  to  an  end,  the  drama  had  retained  its  hold  on  the  masses. 
Dryden  found  the  production  of  plays  the  most  lucrative 
of  literary  employments,  and  he  wrote  many,  both  comedies 
and  tragedies,  in  prose,  blank  verse,  and  rhyme.     His  most 


170  The  Restoration 

characteristic  dramatic  works  are  his  "heroic  plays"  in 
rhyme,  the  use  of  which  he  defended  on  the  ground  that  "it 
bounds  and  circumscribes  the  fancy.  For  imagination  in  a 
poet  is  a  faculty  so  wild  and  lawless  that  it  is  like  an  high 
ranging  spaniel,  it  must  have  clogs  tied  to  it  lest  it  outrun  the 
judgment."  Dryden's  two  dramatic  masterpieces,  however, 
All  for  Love  and  Don  Sebastian  are  in  blank  verse. 

In  the  main,  the  tragedy  of  the  period  interests  us  only  as  a 
survival.  The  Restoration  comedy,  however,  is  a  genuine 
reflection  of  the  temper,  if  not  of  the  actual  life,  of  the  upper 
classes  of  the  nation.  As  practised  by  Shakespeare,  English 
comedy  had  been  romantic  in  spirit.  However  seriously  it 
concerned  itself  with  the  essentials  of  human  nature,  it  had 
comparatively  little  to  do  with  the  circumstances  of  actual 
human  life.  In  Ben  Jonson  we  find  more  realistic  treatment 
of  the  setting,  the  social  surroundings,  of  the  play.  Following 
his  lead,  the  comedians  of  the  Restoration,  of  whom  William 
Wycherley  and  William  Congreve  are  the  chief,  devoted  them- 
selves to  picturing  the  external  details  of  life,  the  fashions  of 
'.he  time,  its  manners,  its  speech,  its  interests.  For  scene  they 
turned  to  the  most  interesting  places  they  knew,  the  drawing- 
rooms,  the  coffee-houses,  the  streets  and  gardens  of  London. 
Their  characters  were  chiefly  people  of  fashion,  and  their  plots, 
for  the  most  part,  were  love  intrigues, — both  often  enough 
uninteresting  and  improbable.  For  these  deficiencies,  how- 
ever, the  dramatist  made  up  in  part  by  the  brilliancy  of  his 
dialogue.  In  tendency  these  plays  are,  almost  without  ex- 
ception, immoral;  they  represent  the  reaction  of  the  play- 
going  public  against  Puritanism.  They  are  anti-social,  in 
that  they  represent  social  institutions,  particularly  marriage, 
in  an  obnoxious  or  ridiculous  light. 

This  anti-social  influence  of  the  plays  of  the  time  was 
clearly  perceived,  and  protest  was  not  lacking.  In  1698 
a  clergyman,  Jeremy  Collier,  published  his  "  Short  View  of 
the  Profaneness  and  Immorality  of  the  English  Stage,"  and 
Dryden,  who  was  one  of  the  dramatists  particularly  at- 
tacked, admitted  the  justice  of  the  rebuke.  Its  immediate 
effect  was  not  sufficient  to  do  away  with  the  coarseness  of 
Restoration  comedy,  but  in  Steele's  plays,  early  in  the  next 


Review  Outline  171 

century,  the  drama  is  in  full  alliance  with  the  forces  which 
were  making  for  morality  and  decent  living. 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— The  Restoration  is  held  by  some  writers  to 
mark  the  beginning  of  modern  English  history.  In  the  period  which 
followed,  English  life  begins  to  assume  its  modern  form,  and  to  show 
the  beginnings  of  that  political,  commercial,  industrial,  artistic,  and 
social  development,  the  results*of  which  make  the  England  of  to-day. 

It  was,  in  the  main,  a  period  of  peaceful  growth.  How  do  you 
account  for  its  calmness?  What  was  the  character  of  Charles  II.? 
What  were  some  of  the  events  of  his  reign  ?  What  caused  the  Revo- 
lution of  1688?  Contrast  the  age  of  Charles  II.  with  the  century 
which  preceded  it.  Why  was  the  former  a  period  of  interest  in  society  ? 
How  did  the  ideal  of  social  conduct  as  opposed  to  that  of  individual 
expression  affect  literature?  Where  did  men  find  rules  for  writing? 
What  was  the  influence  of  France  ?  How  did  poetry  in  its  form  re- 
flect the  tendency  of  the  time  ?  What  is  the  heroic  couplet  ?  How 
did  the  writers  of  this  period  differ  from  Chaucer  in  their  use  of  it  ? 

Outline  the  early  life  of  Dryden,  and  mention  his  early  poems. 
What  is  the  general  subject-matter  of  these  poems?  Sketch  the 
political  situation  out  of  which  Dryden's  great  series  of  satires  arose. 
What  was  his  position  before  and  after  1688  ?  Mention  his  chief  later 
works.  What  was  the  place  of  the  coffee-house  in  the  literature  of 
the  time  ?  In  what  sense  was  Dryden  a  literary  dictator  ?  Give  your 
view  of  Dryden's  personal  character.  Explain  that  character  in 
the  light  of  his  age.  State  your  opinion  of  his  poetic  quality.  Why 
did  Dryden  choose  political  subjects  ?  What  is  the  form  of  his  poetry  ? 
What  virtues  has  it  ?  What  was  the  importance  of  criticism  in  Dry- 
den's time  ?    Compare  his  reform  in  prose  with  that  in  verse  ? 

What  is  Hudibras  ?  Look  up  several  passages  from  it  in  a  book 
of  quotations.  Who  was  Samuel  Pepys?  Of  what  class  was  he 
representative  ?  What  is  the  nature  of  his  diary  ?  How  does  it  reflect 
the  ideals  of  the  time  ?  Who  were  the  chief  writers  of  comedy  in  the 
Restoration  ?  What  is  the  difference  between  the  Restoration  comedy 
and  the  comedy  of  Shakespeare  ?  What  is  the  moral  tendency  of  the 
former?  Who  protested  against  it?  Was  the  protest  effective? 
(See  also  page  201.) 


172  The  Restoration 

READING  GUIDE.— "  Palamon  and  Arcite  "  is  an  excellent  ex- 
ample of  Dryden's  poetry,  and  if  the  poem  be  compared  with  its  origi- 
nal, Chaucer's  "  Knight's  Tale,"  the  result  of  making  over  a  story  to 
suit  the  classic  taste  of  the  time  may  be  observed.  Numerous  school 
editions  are  accessible.  Of  Dryden's  other  poems,  "  Alexander's  Feast  " 
should  be  read  as  an  example  of  his  power  of  sustaining  lyric  effects 
through  a  variety  of  metres.  The  poem  is  included  in  The  Golden 
Treasury.  Of  Dryden's  prose,  examples  may  be  found  in  Craik's 
English  Prose.  Selections  from  Pepys's  Diary  may  be  chosen  from 
the  several  volumes  in  Cassell's  National  Library,  and  no  better  pic- 
tures of  English  life  of  the  time  are  to  be  found. 

For  fuller  treatment  of  the  general  condition  of  society  in  the  Res- 
toration, the  third  chapter  of  Macaulay's  "  History  of  England "  will 
be  found  crowded  with  interesting  details.  The  life  of  Dryden,  by 
Mr.  Saintsbury  in  the  English  Men  of  Letters  series  (Harper),  is  satis- 
factory; and  the  pupil  will  enjoy  R.  L.  Stevenson's  vivid  portrait  of 
Pepys  in  "  Memories  and  Portraits  "  (Scribner).  Extended  criticism  of 
the  Restoration  writers  is  given  in  Mr.  Edmund  Gosse's  "  From  Shake- 
peare  to  Pope."  An  appreciation  of  the  comedy  of  the  Restoration  may 
be  gained  from  Thackeray's  lecture  on  Congreve,  in  "  T,he  English  Hu- 
mourists of  the  Eighteenth  Century." 


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CHAPTER  X 
THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY 

I.    INTRODUCTION 

Political  History  of  the  Eighteenth  Century. — Almost 
at  the  opening  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  crown  passed, 
by  the  death  of  William  III.,  to  the  second  daughter  of 
James  II.,  Anne  (1702-1714).  Her  reign  was  marked  by 
political  struggles  between  the  Whigs,  who  wished  to  secure 
the  Protestant  succession  to  the  throne  by  recognizing  the 
Elector  of  Hanover  as  next  heir,  and  the  Tories,  who  hoped 
to  see  the  kingdom  revert  to  the  son  of  James  II.  In  spite 
of  the  fact  that  the  Tories  were  led  by  one  of  the  cleverest 
men  of  the  time  both  in  politics  and  literature,  Lord  Boling- 
broke,  the  Whigs  triumphed,  and  on  the  death  of  the  queen 
in  1 7 14  the  Elector  of  Hanover  succeeded  as  George  I.  The 
supporters  of  the  Stuart  heir,  or  Jacobites,  revolted  twice, 
once  in  1 715,  and  again  against  George  II.  in  1745,  but  fruit- 
lessly. The  House  of  Hanover  was  continued  by  George  III., 
in  whose  reign  England  won  her  imperial  domain  from  France 
in  America  and  India,  only  to  lose  the  greater  part  of  the 
former  by  the  American  Revolution. 

The  Social  Importance  of  Literature. — The  early  eight- 
eenth century  shows  a  continuation  of  the  literary  ten- 
dencies which  marked  the  Restoration.  Literature  on  its 
serious  side  was  largely  concerned  with  politics.  The  Revo- 
lution of  1688  had  made  Parliament  supreme  in  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  nation,  and  had  fixed  the  system  of  party 
government.  In  the  days  before  newspapers,  the  services  of 
writers  were  of  great  importance  in  determining  public  opin- 
ion ;  accordingly  they  were  employed  largely  by  both  parties 
and  liberally  rewarded.  In  a  sense,  political  service  took  the 
place  of  patronage  as  the  chief  resource  of  authors.    It  gave 

174 


Introduction  175 

them  a  place  of  independence  and  power  in  the  state  such 
as  they  have  at  no  other  time  enjoyed.  Moreover,  thoughtful 
men  saw  in  literature  a  means  of  improving  social  life  and 
purging  society  of  evils  which  threatened  the  peace  and 
order  of  the  community.  The  violence  of  party  spirit  en- 
gendered by  the  expulsion  of  the  Stuarts,  the  survival  of  re- 
ligious fanaticism  among  the  lower  orders,  the  licentiousness 
of  private  life  among  the  aristocracy,  which  is  reflected  in  the 
Restoration  drama — against  all  these  the  literature  of  the 
age  made  protest,  partly  by  the  use  of  ridicule  and  satire, 
partly  by  an  appeal  to  common  sense.  In  minor  respects, 
also,  the  civilization  of  the  time  was  imperfect.  London  was 
so  filthy  that  the  plague  was  always  imminent,  so  badly  paved 
that  traveling  was  dangerous,  so  poorly  guarded  that  foot- 
pads and  highwaymen  operated  freely,  and  wild  young  bucks, 
who  called  themselves  Mohocks,  kept  peaceful  citizens  in 
terror.  The  crude,  immature  nature  of  the  masses,  as  it 
expressed  itself  in  vulgar  amusements  and  cruel  practical 
jokes,  is  portrayed  in  the  realistic  writings  of  the  time,  as 
it  is  with  still  more  vivid  satire  in  the  pictures  of  Hogarth — 
always  with  the  intention  of  making  things  better. 

Eighteenth  Century  Style. — To  serve  such  ends  the  writers 
of  the  time  found  their  most  acceptable  form  in  the  regular 
style  which  had  characterized  the  period  of  Dryderi.  The 
reign  of  law  and  order,  which  was  so  much  desired  after  the 
turbulence  of  the  seventeenth  century,  had  already  been 
achieved  in  the  realm  of  letters.  Literary  men  had  only  to 
practise  what  they  preached,  the  cultivation  of  perfect  man- 
ners instead  of  the  assertion  of  personal  peculiarities,  the 
attainment  of  regularity  and  correctness  of  form  instead  of 
originality  of  thought.  If  the  literary  fashion  of  the  time 
seems  to  us  to  stifle  real  feeling  under  formality,  we  must  re- 
member that  men  needed  this  formality,  as  they  did  their 
wigs  and  ruffles  and  their  stately  courtliness  of  manner,  to 
remind  themselves  that  they  were  not  barbarians,  like  Shake- 
speare and  his  friends,  but  almost  as  fine  gentlemen  as  the 
French  or  the  Latins.  Indeed,  it  was  the  boast  of  Queen 
Anne's  time  that  it  resembled  the  first  century  of  the  Ro- 
man Empire,  whence  it  called  itself  the  Augustan  Age. 


176  The  Eighteenth  Century 

The  Age  of  Queen  Anne. — Queen  Anne  has  given  her 
name  to  an  age  in  English  history  only  less  glorious  than 
that  of  Elizabeth.  Her  short  reign  is  famous  for  the  won- 
derful victories  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  over  the  French, 
and  for  the  writers  who  are  known  as  Queen  Anne's  men. 
These  form  the  most  compact  group  in  the  history  of  English 
letters.  They  all  shared  the  same  interests  and  wrote  after 
the  same  models.  They  were  all  more  or  less  in  politics; 
they  lived  as  much  as  possible  in  London;  they  met  con- 
stantly in  coffee-houses  and  clubs  where  they  formed  part- 
nerships and  alliances,  or  quarrelled  and  went  away  to  attack 
each  other  with  lampoons  and  epigrams.  All  this  gives  a 
peculiar  sense  of  intimacy  to  literary  society  in  the  early  eight- 
eenth century,  the  days  of  Swift,  Addison,  Steele,  Pope. 

II.    JONATHAN    SWIFT    (1667-1745) 

Swift's  Early  Life. — Jonathan  Swift  was  born  in  Ireland 
of  English  parents,  in  1667.  He  was  a  posthumous  son,  and 
he  grew  up  to  share  his  mother's  poverty.  He  was  sent  to 
the  University  of  Dublin,  where,  as  he  says,  he  was  "stopped 
of  his  degree  for  dulness  and  unsufficiency ;  and  at  last  haidly 
admitted,  in  a  manner  little  to  his  credit."  In  1689  he  left 
Ireland  to  take  a  position  as  under-secretary  to  a  distant 
relative,  Sir  William  Temple,  with  whom  he  remained  inter- 
mittently for  some  years,  reading  aloud  to  his  patron,  writ- 
ing at  dictation,  keeping  accounts,  and  cursing  his  fate.  At 
Moor  Park,  Temple's  country-seat,  he  met  Esther  Johnson, 
who  was  also  a  dependent  on  the  bounty  of  Temple,  and  there 
began  the  long  friendship  between  them  which  later  gave  rise 
to  the  story  of  their  secret  marriage.  While  in  the  service  of 
Sir  William  Temple,  Swift  wrote  The  Battle  of  the  Books,  a 
contribution  to  the  controversy  which  Temple  was  carrying 
on  with  Bentley,  the  great  scholar,  as  to  the  comparative 
merit  of  ancient  and  modern  writers.  About  this  time,  also, 
he  wrote  a  satire  on  the  divisions  of  Christianity,  called 
The  Tale  0}  a  Tub.  Neither  work  was  published  until  1704. 
Before  this  time,  in  despair  of  any  other  career,  he  had  en- 
tered the  church;  and  after  his  patron's  death  he  returned  to 


Jonathan  Swift  177 

Ireland  as  chaplain  to  Lord  Berkeley,  by  whom  he  was  given 
the  living  of  Laracor. 

Swift's  Political  Career. — Then  began  the  great  period  of 
Swift's  life,  the  time  of  his  political  power.  During  the 
reign  of  William  III.,  party  strife  was  bitter  between  the 
Whigs,  who  supported  the  king's  foreign  policy  of  resist- 
ance to  Louis  XIV.  of  France,  and  the  Tories,  who  op- 
posed it;  and  this  struggle  was  continued  in  the  reign  of 
Queen  Anne.  Almost  all  the  prominent  literary  men  of 
the  time  were  engaged  on  one  side  or  the  other.  Swift, 
who  was  frequently  in  London  promoting  his  candidacy  for 
offices  in  the  church  as  they  fell  vacant,  at  first  wrote  on  the 
Whig  side;  but  in  1710  he  joined  the  Tories,  who  were  just 
coming  into  power.  The  Tory  ministry,  of  which  Lord 
Bolingbroke  was  a  member,  was  resolved  to  stop  the  war 
with  France;  and  in  defence  of  this  policy  Swift  put  out 
one  of  his  strongest  political  writings,  The  Conduct  0}  the 
Allies.  His  life  during  these  years  is  reflected  in  his  Jour- 
nal to  Stella,  a  daily  account  of  his  doings  which  he  wrote 
to  his  friend,  Esther  Johnson.  Here  we  find  Swift  playing 
the  part  in  which  he  most  delighted,  that  of  a  man  of  affairs, 
active,  successful,  and  powerful.  He  records  with  gusto 
his  hours  spent  with  the  rulers  of  the  country ;  their  politeness, 
and  his  own  half  contemptuous  familiarity;  his  pleasure  in 
his  ability  to  serve  his  friends  and  to  punish  his  enemies.  In 
1 7 13,  as  the  price  of  his  support  of  the  Tory  government, 
he  was  named  Dean  of  St.  Patrick's  in  Dublin,  a  promotion 
little  to  his  taste.  The  next  year  the  Tories  went  out  of 
power,  discredited  by  Bolingbroke's  intrigues  with  the  Pre- 
tender; and  Swift  returned  to  Ireland. 

Swift  in  Ireland. — Here  his  unconquerable  activity  found 
vent  in  defending  the  Irish  from  the  careless  tyranny  of  the 
home  government.  In  this  endeavor  he  published  The  Dra- 
per's Letters,  most  of  them  in  1724,  as  a  protest  against  turn- 
ing over  the  right  to  coin  money  for  Ireland  to  a  private 
individual,  for  his  own  profit.  In  1726  he  took  the  manu- 
script of  his  most  famous  work,  Gulliver's  Travels,  to  London 
for  publication,  and  the  next  year  he  returned  thither  to 
taste  the  pleasure  of  a  great  literary  success.     This,  as  all  else 


178  The  Eighteenth  Century 

in  his  life,  seemed  to  turn  only  to  disappointment.  In  1728 
Miss  Johnson  died,  and  her  death  left  him  desolate.  As  the 
years  passed,  his  hatred  of  the  world  grew  more  intense, 
and  his  satire  more  bitter.  A  disease  from  which  he  had 
suffered  at  intervals  gained  rapidly  upon  him,  resulting  in 
deafness  and  giddiness ;  and  he  suffered  also  from  attacks  of 
epilepsy  and  insanity.  After  years  of  gloom  and  agony, 
death  came  slowly  Upon  him.     He  died  in  1745. 

Swift's  Character. — It  is  evident  from  this  narrative  that, 
to  a  great  extent,  Swift's  writings  were  occasional,  and  grew 
out  of  the  circumstances  of  his  life.  He  was  not  a  professional 
writer ;  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  his  works  were  published 
anonymously.  He  was  a  man  of  affairs,  who  became  a  man 
of  letters  because  literature  was  a  means  by  which  affairs 
could  be  directed.  His  writings  must  be  regarded,  then,  as 
one  expression  among  others  of  energy  turned  to  practical 
ends;  as  one  evidence  among  others  of  his  extraordinary 
activity.  For  Swift  lived  hard.  "There  is  no  such  thing," 
he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  as  a  fine  old  gentleman ;  if  the  man  had 
a  mind  or  body  worth  a  farthing  they  would  have  worn  him 
out  long  ago."  We  are  not  surprised  to  read  of  Swift  that 
while  he  was  at  Moor  Park  with  Sir  William  Temple  he  used 
to  leave  his  study  every  two  hours  for  a  half  mile  run.  As 
an  old  man,  imprisoned  in  his  deanery,  he  found  relief  in 
rushing  over  the  house  and  up  and  down  stairs  with  in- 
credible speed. 

This  need  of  exercise  is  the  explanation  of  much  that  is 
singular  in  Swift's  life.  It  shows  itself  not  only  in  his  serious 
concern  with  important  affairs  of  state,  but  also  in  his  gigantic 
sense  of  play.  The  anecdotes  related  of  him  by  his  earlier 
biographers  are  legion,  most  of  them  turning  upon  the  trans- 
lation of  some  whim  into  practical  form,  usually  as  a  gro- 
tesque joke.  The  tale  of  his  dispersing  a  crowd  gathered 
to  witness  an  eclipse,  by  sending  a  message  that,  according 
to  the  Dean's  orders,  the  eclipse  would  be  put  off  for  a  day; 
of  his  impersonating  a  poor  usher  at  a  reception,  to  draw 
the  contempt  of  a  rich  fool ;  and  of  his  disguising  himself  as 
a  fiddler  at  a  beggar's  wedding,  to  discover  the  arts  by  which 
impostors  live — all  these  bear  testimony  to  that  restlessness 


Jonathan  Swift  179 

which  could  not  be  satisfied  by  work  alone.  With  this 
lighter  side  of  Swift's  nature  are  to  be  connected  the  works 
by  which  he  is  chiefly  known,  his  satires — The  Tale  oj  a  Tub 
and  Gulliver's  Travels. 

"  The  Partridge  Predictions  " ;  Swift's  Literary  Method. — 
Once,  indeed,  this  love  of  a  practical  joke  was  directly  re- 
sponsible for  some  of  Swift's  most  characteristic  writing.  A 
certain  Partridge  was  in  the  habit  of  issuing  an  almanac, 
with  predictions  of  events  to  fall  out  in  the  next  year.  This 
impostor  Swift  exposed  in  a  set  of  "  Predictions  for  the  year 
1708,"  one  of  which  was  the  death  of  Partridge  himself,  who, 
according  to  the  prophecy,  should  "infallibly  die  upon  the 
29th  of  March,  about  eleven  at  night,  of  a  raging  fever." 
This  pamphlet  was  published  over  the  name  of  Isaac  Bicker- 
staff.  On  the  30th  of  March,  Swift  published  a  letter  sup- 
posed to  be  written  by  a  revenue  officer  to  a  certain  nobleman, 
giving  an  account  of  Partridge's  last  days  and  death.  He 
also  wrote  "An  Elegy  of  Mr.  Partridge."  Of  course,  Par- 
tridge hastened  in  triumph  to  assure  the  world  that  he  was 
not  dead;  but  Swift  promptly  came  back  with  "A  Vindica- 
tion of  Isaac  Bickerstaff,"  in  which,  after  rebuking  Partridge 
for  his  impudence,  he  proved  by  various  logical  demon- 
strations that  Partridge  certainly  died  "within  half  an  hour 
of  the  time  foretold." 

This  skit  is  broadly  characteristic  of  the  whole  spirit  and 
method  of  Swift's  work,  in  that  it  exposes,  a  sham  or  an  evil 
by  setting  up  a  more  monstrous  imposition  against  it,  and  de- 
fends the  latter  with  ironical  seriousness ;  the  whole  being  per- 
meated so  thoroughly  by  contemptuous  fooling  that  one  hesi- 
tates to  say  whether  it  may  or  may  not  have  been  written  with 
a  certain  amount  of  reforming  zeal.  In  Swift's  works  gener- 
ally there  is  this  double  aspect  of  earnestness  and  play.  In 
the  "  Modest  Proposal,  for  Preventing  the  Children  of  the 
Poor  in  Ireland  from  being  Burdensome,"  the  terrible  suf- 
fering of  the  Irish  is  revealed  in  the  mocking  suggestion 
that  the  poor  should  devote  themselves  to  rearing  children 
to  be  killed  and  eaten.  The  Tale  of  a  Tub  represents  the 
three  leading  sects  of  Christians  in  the  story  of  three  stupid 
brethren,  Peter,  Martin,  and  John,  and  their  quarrels  as 


180  The  Eighteenth  Century 

to  how  they  shall  wear  the  coats  left  them  by  their  father. 
Gulliver's  Travels  is,  in  form,  a  romance  of  marvellous  ad- 
ventures, yet  it  is  full  of  satire  against  all  mankind. 

11  Gulliver's  Travels." — Gulliver  is  shipwrecked  first  at 
Lilliput,  where  the  inhabitants  are  six  inches  high — except 
their  emperor,  "taller  by  almost  the  breadth  of  my  nail  than 
any  of  his  court,  which  alone  is  enough  to  strike  an  awe 
into  the  beholders."  Here  the  satire  consists  in  showing 
human  motives  at  work  on  a  small  scale,  and  in  suggesting, 
by  the  likeness  of  the  Lilliputians  to  ourselves,  the  littleness 
of  human  affairs.  The  arts  by  which  the  officers  of  the 
government  keep  their  places,  such  as  cutting  capers  on  a 
tight-rope  for  the  entertainment  of  the  emperor,  remind  us 
of  the  quality  of  statesmanship  both  in  Swift's  day  and  in 
our  own ;  the  dispute  over  the  question  at  which  end  an  egg 
should  properly  be  broken,  that  plunged  Lilliput  into  civil 
war,  is  a  comment  on  the  triviality  of  party  divisions  in  the 
greater  world.  Gulliver's  next  voyage,  to  Brobdingnag,  brings 
him  to  a  people  as  large  in  comparison  with  man  as  the  Lilli- 
putians are  small.  Once  more  his  adventures  are  a  tale  of 
wonder,  behind  which  lurks  Swift's  contempt  for  humanity. 
Gulliver  tells  the  giant  beings  by  whom  he  is  surrounded, 
and  in  comparison  with  whom  he  is  a  mere  manikin,  of  the 
world  from  which  he  has  come.  Among  other  things,  he 
tells  of  the  invention  of  gunpowder,  and  the  use  of  instru- 
ments of  warfare.  "The  king  was  struck  with  horror  at  the 
description  I  had  given  of  those  terrible  engines.  He  was 
amazed  how  so  impotent  and  grovelling  an  insect  as  I  (these 
were  his  expressions)  could  entertain  such  inhuman  ideas." 
Finally,  after  a  third  voyage  to  Laputa  and  other  curious 
places,  Gulliver  makes  his  fourth  journey,  to  the  land  of  the 
Houyhnhnms,  where  horses  are  the  rulers  and  masters,  and 
where  the  human  animal  is  in  a  state  of  servitude  and  deg- 
radation. Here  again  Gulliver  relates  to  his  incredulous 
hosts  the  follies  and  cruelties  of  men.  But  the  fiercest  satire 
is  in  the  picture  of  the  Yahoo,  the  human  beast,  in  which 
the  worst  of  man  is  once  for  all  told. 

Swift  as  a  Moralist. — It  is  interesting  to  compare  the 
sketches  of  imaginary  kingdoms  in  Gulliver's  Travels  with 


Jonathan  Swift  181 

the  picture  of  society  in  Utopia.  While  More  constructs  an 
ideal  commonwealth,  and  commits  himself  heartily  to  its 
exposition  and  defence,  Swift  occupies  himself  entirely  with 
railing  at  the  follies  and  frailties  of  humanity.  Even  the 
Houyhnhnms,  who  are  as  intelligent  as  the  Utopians,  and 
conduct  their  lives  as  reasonably,  lead  an  existence  so  de- 
void of  charm  that  we  wonder  whether,  in  picturing  it,  Swift 
was  not  satirizing  the  ideals  of  men,  as  keenly  as  in  the 
Yahoos  he  scores  the  realities.  In  other  words,  we  miss 
entirely  the  enthusiastic  confidence  in  the  future  of  man- 
kind which  marked  the  early  Renaissance.  Swift's  criticism 
is  wholly  destructive.  He  sees  the  evils  and  follies  of  men, 
but  he  has  no  hope  that  they  will  outgrow  them.  Indeed, 
in  his  wavering  between  jest  and  earnest,  it  seems  as  if  he 
never  felt  quite  sure  that  the  world  was  worth  his  zeal,  as 
if  he  were  always  a  trifle  ashamed  to  declare  himself  a 
reformer.  Yet  it  would  be  useless  to  deny  that  in  Swift's 
ironical  playfulness  there  is  something  awakening.  The 
fact  that  we  are  never  quite  sure  of  his  aim  keeps  us  on  the 
watch  lest  he  take  us  by  surprise ;  his  clever  artifice  calls  for 
an  answering  alertness  in  his  readers.  And  even  in  Swift's 
downright  pessimism  there  is  a  certain  wholesome  stimulus, 
perhaps  because  it  is  a  change  from  the  conventional  light  in 
which  we  are  taught  to  look  at  the  world.  Even  his  coarse- 
ness contains  something  of  vigorous  challenge  that  forces  us 
to  prove  everything,  and  to  call  things  by  their  true  names. 

III.  JOSEPH  ADDISON  (1672-1719),  AND  SIR  RICHARD  STEELE 
(1672-1729) 

The  Early  Periodicals. — The  practical  tendency  of  eight- 
eenth century  literature,  its  direct  concern  with  existing  af- 
fairs, is  shown  by  the  development  of  the  various  forms  of 
the  periodical,  from  the  newspaper  to  the  magazine.  The 
first  English  newspaper  was  Butter's  Weekly  Newes  from 
Italy  and  Germanie,  which  appeared  in  1622.  Later  the 
periodical  form  was  used  for  political  purposes.  Swift  con- 
ducted a  paper  in  the  Tory  interest  known  as  the  Examiner, 
and  the  Whigs  replied  with  the'  Whig  Examiner.    The  lighter 


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JOSEPH  ADDISON 
From  a  painting  by  G.  Kneller,  S.  R. 


Joseph  Addison  183 

side  of  journalism  which  lies  between  news  and  politics  was 
not  adequately  represented,  until,  in  1709,  there  appeared  a 
periodical  of  which  the  object  was  to  "observe  upon  the 
pleasurable  as  well  as  the  busy  part  of  mankind."  This  was 
The  Tatler,  founded  by  Richard  Steele,  who  was  soon  joined 
in  the  enterprise  by  his  friend,  Joseph  Addison. 

"  The  Tatler." — The  Tatler  appeared  three  times  a  week. 
Each  number  consisted  of  several  letters  dated  from  the  dif- 
ferent coffee-houses  of  London;  those  from  the  Saint  James 
being  devoted  to  foreign  and  domestic  affairs,  those  from 
Will's,  to  poetry  and  the  drama,  those  from  White's  to  "  gal- 
lantry, pleasure,  and  entertainment.'*  There  were  also  papers 
dated  "From  my  own  apartment,"  which  dealt  with  miscella- 
neous topics,  personal  or  social.  It  was  in  these  last  that  the 
authors  carried  out  most  fully  the  object  which  they  set  before 
themselves,  "to  expose  the  false  arts  of  life,  to  pull  off  the 
disguises  of  cunning,  vanity,  and  affectation,  and  to  recom- 
mend a  general  simplicity  in  our  dress,  our  discourse,  and 
our  behavior."  Although  The  Tatler  appealed  to  the  public 
without  distinction  of  party,  it  was  colored  by  Steele's  Whig 
views.  Accordingly,  when  the  authors  wished  to  avoid 
politics  altogether,  they  abandoned  The  Tatler,  replacing  it 
by  The  Spectator  (17 n),  in  which  Addison  took  the  chief 
part. 

Addison's  Life. — Joseph  Addison  was  born  in  1672,  at 
Milston.  He  was  educated  at  the  Charterhouse  School, 
London,  where  his  friendship  with  Richard  Steele  began, 
and  at  Christ  Church  College,  Oxford.  At  Oxford  he  first 
attracted  notice  by  a  Latin  poem  on  the  Treaty  of  Rys- 
wick,  receiving  for  it  a  pension  of  three  hundred  pounds 
a  year,  which  enabled  him  to  travel  abroad.  After  his 
return,  the  Whigs  needed  a  poet  to  celebrate  the  Duke 
of  Marlborough's  victory  of  Blenheim,  and  the  commis- 
sion fell  to  Addison.  His  poem,  "The  Campaign,"  gained 
for  its  author  various  honors  and  preferments.  He  was 
made  Under  Secretary  of  State,  Member  of  Parliament, 
editor  of  various  Whig  journals,  and  later  Secretary  for 
Ireland.  Indeed,  Addison's  career  affords  the  best  example 
of  the  high  rewards  which  the  service  of  party  offered  in  the 


184  The  Eighteenth  Century 

early  eighteenth  century  to  literary  men.  Even  his  tragedy, 
Cato,  which  was  presented  in  1713,  owed  its  great  popu- 
larity to  a  supposed  parallel  between  the  struggles  of  parties 
at  Rome  and  the  political  situation  of  the  time  in  England ; 
and  as  neither  party  could  allow  the  other  to  take  to  itself 
the  platitudes  about  liberty  with  which  the  play  is  strewn, 
Whigs  and  Tories  alike  attended  the  performances,  rivalling 
each  other  in  the  violence  of  their  applause. 

Addison  was  the  great  literary  man  among  the  Whigs 
and  the  centre  of  a  group  of  minor  writers  belonging  to  that 
party.  As  a  young  man  he  was  a  satellite  of  Dryden  at  Will's 
coffee-house,  but  later  he  set  up  his  headquarters  at  Button's, 
where,  to  quote  the  contemptuous  line  of  Pope,  he  "gave 
his  little  senate  laws."  His  worldly  success,  and  especially 
his  marriage  to  a  noblewoman,  the  widow  of  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  raised  him  above  the  status  of  a  literary  man,  and 
perhaps  for  that  reason  he  drew  upon  himself  the  enmity  of 
his  rivals.     He  died  in  1719. 

No  character  in  English  letters  is  to-day  better  known 
or  more  generally  admired  than  Addison.  This  power  of 
attracting  admiration  is  largely  due  to  a  certain  classic  qual- 
ity which  showed  itself  in  his  literary  ideals,  in  his  pure, 
regular  style,  in  the  just  appreciation  of  his  criticism,  and  in 
his  singularly  correct  sense  of  conduct.  His  taste  was  nearly 
faultless,  and  taste  did  for  him  what  it  should  do  for  anyone, 
it  saved  him  from  blunders  and  follies.  In  his  life  as  in  his 
writing,  what  he  did  was  well  done.  Every  stroke  that  went 
to  the  presentation  of  his  character  in  bodily  form  seems  to 
have  been  made  with  conscious  care  and  conscious  pride. 
The  last  touch  of  all,  as  he  lay  on  his  death-bed,  and  turning 
to  his  step-son  bade  him  "See  in  what  peace  a  Christian  can 
die,"  expresses  the  mood  in  which  his  whole  life  was  lived. 

"  The  Spectator." — The  papers  which  Addison  contributed 
to  The  Spectator,  are  for  the  most  part  essays  in  the  art  of 
living.  They  illustrate  the  practical  nature  of  his  own  culture, 
his  easy  mastery  of  life.  To  the  world  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, with  its  crudeness,  its  coarseness,  its  grotesqueness,  as 
revealed  in  the  pictures  of  Hogarth,  Addison  came  as  a 
missionary,  to  enforce  ideas  of  civilization,  and  in  particular 


Joseph  Addison  185 

to  overcome  the  anti-social  tendencies  of  both  Puritan  and 
Cavalier,  preserving  the  zeal  for  conduct  of  the  former  with- 
out his  gloom  and  intolerance,  and  the  lightness  and  gaiety 
of  the  latter  without  his  license.  Thus  we  find  many  of 
Addison's  papers  directed  against  the  coarser  vices  of  the 
lime,  against  gambling,  drinking,  swearing,  indecency  of 
conversation,  cruelty,  practical  joking,  duelling.  Others 
attack  the  triviality  of  life,  special  follies  and  foibles  of  dress, 
of  manners,  or  of  thought ;  others,  the  lack  of  order  and  com- 
fort in  the  life  of  the  community.  Addison  cared  also  for 
the  literary  cultivation  of  his  readers,  as  is  shown  by  such 
papers  as  the  famous  series  of  criticisms  on  Milton.  Finally, 
he  made  a  novel  contribution  to  literature  in  a  series  of 
sketches  of  character  and  contemporary  types — of  himself 
as  the  Spectator,  of  Sir  Andrew  Freeport  the  merchant,  of 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  the  country  gentleman,  of  Will  Honey- 
comb the  man  of  fashion.  These  figures  are  not  only  types 
of  the  public  to  which  The  Spectator  appealed;  more  than 
this,  they  define  themselves  as  persons,  fitting  members  of  the 
great  company  of  characters  who  live  in  English  fiction  from 
Chaucer  to  George  Eliot.  One  of  them  at  least,  Sir  Roger 
de  Coverley,  to  whose  presentation  both  Addison  and  Steele 
contributed,  is  drawn  with  genuine  affection,  as  an  embodi- 
ment of  healthy,  kindly,  natural  virtue,  touched  with  just 
enough  humor  to  make  the  picture  real  and  wholly  winning. 

Addison's  Style. — In  his  treatment  of  these  various  subjects 
Addison  displays  the  graces  of  style  which  are  the  expression 
of  his  character.  His  sense  of  humor  always  gives  him  deft- 
ness and  lightness.  Even  such  a  serious  subject  as  the 
division  of  men  on  political  grounds,  he  treats  by  a  playful 
comparison  with  the  fashion  of  ladies  in  wearing  black 
patches  of  different  shapes  on  their  faces.  This  easy  tone 
comes  from  Addison's  moderation  and  reasonableness,  and 
from  his  genuine  good- nature.  Satirist  though  he  is,  he  is 
never  misanthropic. 

Addison's  style  has  always  been  a  model  of  the  more 
regular  virtues, — clearness,  facility,  grace  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin was  only  one  among  the  many  who  have  learned  to 
write  by  imitating  it.    The  praise  of  Addison  as  the  school- 


186  The  Eighteenth  Century 

master  of  English  prose  was  pronounced  by  Dr.  Johnson 
wh«n  he  wrote,  "Whoever  wishes  to  attain  an  English  style, 
familiar  but  not  coarse,  and  elegant  but  not  ostentatious, 
must  give  his  days  and  nights  to  the  volumes  of  Addison." 

Richard  Steele. — Despite  the  close  connection  between 
Addison  and  Steele,  in  friendship,  political  interests,  and 
literary  work,  the- two  men  were  very  different.  Addison's 
father  was  a  clergyman,  and  Addison  himself  intended  (at 
one  time)  to  take  orders.  "He  looked,"  as  a  contemporary 
said  with  some  scorn,  "like  a  parson  in  a  tie-wig."  Steele, 
on  the  contrary,  was  for  some  years  a  soldier,  and  never  lost 
the  bearing  of  his  profession.  He  was  Captain  Steele  and 
wore  a  sword  to  the  end  of  his  days. 

Steele  was  born  in  Dublin,  in  the  year  of  Addison's  birth, 
1672.  He  was  sent  to  Charterhouse  School,  and  then  to 
Oxford,  which  he  left  without  a  degree,  to  become  a  soldier. 
He  gave  up  the  army  for  literature,  failed  as  a  dramatist, 
and  became  a  journalist  in  the  interest  of  the  Whigs.  In 
1709  he  began  The  Tatler  and  his  literary  partnership  with 
Addison,  which  was  continued  in  The  Spectator  and  The 
Guardian.  Steele's  services  to  the  Whigs  brought  him 
various  offices.  He  was  more  than  once  Member  of  Parlia- 
ment, was  appointed  director  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  and 
became  Sir  Richard  Steele.  But  in  the  end  his  ventures, 
both  in  business  and  in  politics,  all  turned  out  badly.  He 
retired  to  Wales,  where  he  died  in  1729. 

Altogether  Steele's  life  was  a  thing  of  fragments.  His 
character,  too,  showed  certain  flaws  and  lapses,  faults  of  a 
generous,  whole-hearted  nature;  and  to  these  his  writings 
in  a  measure  served  to  call  attention.  While  a  soldier  he 
wrote  The  Christian  Hero,  a  manual  of  personal  and  do- 
mestic virtues;  his  plays  were  entirely  moral;  in  The  Tatler 
he  appeared  as  a  preacher.  The  discrepancy  between  his 
personal  life  and  the  tenor  of  much  of  his  writing,  laid  Steele 
open  to  gibe  and  sneer;  but  there  is  an  honest  human  quality 
about  his  inconsistencies  that  gives  him,  after  all,  a  charm 
which  his  greatest  contemporaries  lack.  This  charm  is  re- 
flected in  his  papers  in  The  Tatler,  some  of  which,  like  the 
181st,  which  describes  his  feelings  on  the  death  of  his  father, 


Alexander  Pope  187 

have  an  intimate  and  personal  quality  that  suggests  Charles 
Lamb  or  Thackeray. 

i 

IV.   ALEXANDER   POPE    (1688-1744) 

Pope's  Early  Life. — Alexander  Pope,  the  greatest  poet 
and  the  most  brilliant  man  of  letters  of  the  early  part 
of  the  century,  was  born  in  London,  in  1688,  of  Catholic 
parents.  By  reason  of  the  sweeping  laws  against  the  en- 
trance of  Catholics  into  public  service,  he  was  shut  out 
from  the  ordinary  career  of  Englishmen,  in  Parliament,  the 
church,  or  the  army ;  and  he  was,  moreover,  from  his  youth 
feeble,  almost  a  cripple.  In  consequence  he  is,  among  his  con- 
temporaries, almost  the  sole  example  of  an  author  who  was 
entirely  a  man  of  letters ;  the  events  of  his  life  were  altogether 
literary  events.  Like  Spenser  and  like  Milton  he  early  con- 
secrated himself  to  poetry.  His  Pastorals,  written  when 
he  was  seventeen,  were  published  in  1709.  The  Essay  on 
Criticism  two  years  later,  attracted  Addison's  notice;  and 
Pope's  other  early  poems,  Windsor  Forest,  Eloisa  to  Abe- 
lard,  and  above  all  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  of  which  the 
first  draft  appeared  in  171 2,  confirmed  him  in  his  position 
at  the  head  of  English  poetry.  About  1713  he  undertook 
the  greatest  venture  of  his  life,  the  translation  of  Homer,  which 
he  did  not  complete  until  1726.  From  the  publishers  and 
from  his  sales  to  subscribers,  Pope  obtained  more  than  five 
thousand  pounds  for  the  Iliad,  and  two-thirds  of  this  sum 
for  the  Odyssey  (on  which  most  of  the  work  was  done  by 
others) — much  the  greatest  pecuniary  reward  which  up  to 
that  time  had  been  received  by  any  English  author.  It 
made  Pope  independent  of  patronage  and  politics;  and  it 
marks  the  opening  of  a  time  in  which  literature  looked  to  the 
public  alone  for  support. 

Pope  at  Twickenham. — The  profits  of  his  translation  en- 
abled Pope  to  buy  a  small  estate  at  Twickenham,  on  the 
Thames  near  London.  This  he  fitted  up  in  the  mock 
classical  style  which  the  age  affected  in  other  things  be- 
sides literature.  He  subdued  nature  to  taste  by  landscape 
gardening,  until  his  few  acres  must  have  seemed  a  minia- 


188  The  Eighteenth  Century 

ture  Versailles.  He  scattered  statuary  and  temples  about 
in  artistic  contrast  to  the  woods  and  lawns;  and  as  his 
crowning  achievement  he  built  a  famous  grotto  ornamented 
with  mirrors.  Against  this  artificial  background  we  catch 
the  most  characteristic  glimpses  of  Pope, — "a  lively  little 
creature,"  as  he  describes  himself,  "with  long  legs  and 
arms;  a  spider  is  no  ill  emblem  of  him."  At  Twicken- 
ham Pope  lived  the  remainder  of  his  life,  secluded  from 
the  world  which  he  affected  to  despise,  but  very  constantly 
occupied  with  his  own  relations  to  it.  Here  he  entertained 
his  friends,  Swift,  Arbuthnot,  Gay,  and  others,  with  whom 
he  formed  a  literary  partnership  known  as  the  Scriblerus 
Club.  It  was  in  connection  with  this  partnership  that  he 
published  in  1728  a  great  onslaught  on  their  literary  foes, 
entitled  The  Dunciad.  At  Twickenham  also  Pope  saw 
much  of  Bolingbroke,  and  under  his  influence  wrote  the 
Essay  on  Man,  published  in  1732  and  1734.  The  remain- 
der of  his  work  consists  of  the  Moral  Epistle  (satires  in  imi- 
tation of  Horace),  the  Epistle  to  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  which  is 
Pope's  chief  defence  of  himself,  and  the  Epilogue  to  the 
Satires.  These  were  published  before  1737,  after  which  date 
Pope  wrote  little.     He  died  in  1744. 

Pope's  Character  as  a  Poet. — Pope's  claim  to  the  first  place 
among  the  poets  of  his  time  cannot  be  gainsaid,  but  his  true 
place  among  the  poets  of  all  time  is  a  matter  of  dispute.  At 
the  outset  it  must  be  recognized  that  certain  sources  of  power 
were  denied  him,  partly  in  consequence  of  the  nature  of  the 
period  in  which  he  lived,  partly  by  reason  of  the  deficiencies 
of  his  own  temperament.  The  age  was  one  in  which  sym- 
pathy for  nature  and  for  humanity  was  limited,  and  in  this 
matter  Pope  shared  the  blindness  of  his  age.  Moreover, 
Pope  was  from  birth  sickly  and  feeble;  strong  passion,  great 
emotion,  richness  of  fife,  were  beyond  his  experience.  Ac- 
cordingly, we  miss  in  his  poetry  greatness  of  feeling  for 
the  natural  world  and  for  the  world  of  man,  as  well  as 
greatness  of  human  personality.  That  such  a  man  should 
become  a  poet  at  all  is  as  wonderful  as  that  a  deaf  man  should 
be  a  composer,  or  a  blind  man  a  sculptor.  That  he  should 
be  the  typical  poet  of  his  age  shows  how  limited  was  the  con- 


ALEXANDER    POPE 
From  a  painting  by  A.  Pond 


190  The  Eighteenth  Century 

ception  which  then  prevailed  of  the  nature  and  function  of 
poetry. 

But  though  certain  qualities  which  we  expect  to  find  in 
poetry  are  necessarily  absent  in  Pope,  these  were  replaced, 
at  least  for  his  contemporaries,  by  others.  First  of  all,  he 
owed  his  success  to  his  marvellous  skill  in  managing  the 
heroic  couplet.  He  declared  that  as  a  child  he  "lisped  in 
numbers,  for  the  numbers  came."  But  he  was  not  satisfied 
with  mere  facility.  One  of  his  earliest  friends  and  critics, 
William  Walsh,  pointed  out  to  him  that  "though  we  had 
had  several  great  poets  we  never  had  any  one  great  poet 
that  was  correct."  Correctness,  accordingly,  Pope  made  his 
aim  from  the  first.  Nor  did  he  sacrifice  to  mere  exactness 
of  metre  and  rhyme  the  other  virtues  of  couplet  verse,  com- 
pression, epigrammatic  force,  and  brilliancy  of  phrase.  In 
his  Essay  on  Criticism,  he  sets  forth  the  artistic  principles 
of  the  time  with  special  reference  to  poetry.  In  this  dis- 
cussion he  bids  the  poet  follow  Nature,  but  Nature  method- 
ized by  rules,  for  "to  copy  Nature  is  to  copy  them."  The 
substance  of  the  poem  is  made  up  of  commonplaces,  for 
Pope  and  his  readers  believed  that  there  was  nothing  new 
under  the  sun ;  but  these  commonplaces  are  given  the  most 
apt,  the  most  chiselled  form,  a  form  in  which  they  are  fitted 
to  survive  as  part  of  the  common  wisdom  of  the  race. 

Pope's  Homer. — Pope's  comprehension  of  the  artistic  de- 
mands of  his  time,  and  his  rhetorical  skill,  fitted  him  admir- 
ably for  his  work  of  translating  Homer.  His  own  knowl- 
edge of  Homer  was,  it  is  true,  second-hand  and  inaccurate ; 
but  the  impossibility  of  making  a  literally  faithful  rendering 
left  him  the  freer  to  turn  the  material  of  the  Greek  poems 
into  the  form  in  which  it  was  most  fitted  to  become  a  part 
of  the  culture  of  his  own  time.  Not  only  does  Homer,  in 
Pope's  hands,  become  an  eighteenth  century  poet,  by  virtue 
of  his  submission  to  the  literary  fashions  of  the  day — the 
heroic  couplet,  and  conventional  poetic  diction — but  even 
the  characters,  the  manners,  the  ethical  ideals  of  primitive 
Greece  are  run  over  into  eighteenth  century  moulds.  Just  as 
to  the  cloudy  mediaeval  imagination  the  heroes  of  Troy  be- 
came knights,  so  in  Pope's  conception  they  are  statesmen 


Alexander  Pope  191 

and  party  leaders,  treating  each  other  with  parliamentary 
courtesy,  and  talking  of  virtue,  patriotism,  and  fame,  as 
glibly  and  eloquently  as  Bolingbroke  himself. 

"  The  Rape  of  the  Lock." — The  works  of  Pope  thus  far 
mentioned  are  chiefly  remarkable  for  their  literary  qualities. 
But  even  more  important  is  the  group  of  poems  in  which, 
with  no  loss  of  artistic  finish,  he  dealt  directly  with  the  life 
of  his  time.  Of  these  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  stands  first. 
The  poem  was  suggested  by  a  trivial  occurrence,  the  rude 
behavior  of  Lord  Petre  in  cutting  a  lock  from  the  head  of 
Miss  Fermor.  Only  the  excessive  interest  of  the  age  in 
social  matters,  combined  with  the  sympathetic  genius  of  a 
poet,  could  have  made  such  gossip  as  this  outlast  the  cen- 
turies. Pope  wrote  first  a  rapid  account  of  the  card-party 
at  Hampton  at  which  the  theft  took  place.  Later  he  ex- 
panded the  poem  by  introducing  the  sylphs,  who  guard  the 
lady's  bed,  make  her  toilet,  and  attend  her  in  public — ad- 
mirable suggestions  of  the  artifice  which  directed  each  act, 
however  trivial,  of  a  belle  of  Queen  Anne's  day.  The  Rape 
of  the  Lock  is  not  only  a  satire  on  society ;  it  is  a  witty  par- 
ody of  the  heroic  style  in  poetry.  Even  the  verse  form  is 
treated  humorously,  especially  through  its  tendency  toward 
anti-climax,  as  in  the  lines, 

"  Here  thou,  great  Anna!  whom  three  realms  obey, 
Dost  sometimes  counsel  take — and  sometimes  tea." 

Pope's  Satires. — In  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  the  satire  is  gen- 
eral, and,  on  the  whole,  good-natured.  Pope's  later  poems, 
however,  are  intensely  personal,  and  grew  out  of  the  circum- 
stances of  his  life.  As  has  been  said  already,  his  character 
was  not  a  great  one.  We  listen  in  vain  in  his  poetry  for  the 
deeper  notes  of  individual  human  experience.  But  his  lack 
of  absorption  in  his  inner  life  made  him  morbidly  sensitive  in 
his  external  contact  with  the  world.  No  man  ever  had  more 
elaborate  relations  with  people  than  Pope,  or  got  more  out 
of  his  friends,  or  changed  more  often  from  friendship  to 
enmity,  or  pursued  his  enemies  with  more  unwearied  spite. 
The  Moral  Epistles  and  Imitations  of  Horace  are  crowded  with 
satiric  allusions  to  contemporaries.    The  Epistle  to  Dr.  A  rbuth- 


192  The  Eighteenth  Century 

not  contains  the  savage  sketch  of  Addison  under  the  name  Atti- 
cus.  Countless  personal  grudges  were  paid  off  by  the  several 
editions  of  The  Dunciad,  an  elaborate  satire  in  which,  after  the 
fashion  of  Dryden  in  MacFlecknoe,  the  dullards,  pedants,  and 
bad  poets  are  presented  in  ridiculous  surroundings  and  atti- 
tudes. All  this  morbid  following  of  "miserable  aims  that  end 
with  self"  seems  remote  enough  from  the  dignity  of  a  great 
poet.  Yet  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  age  itself  was 
largely  preoccupied  with  small  things.  Pope's  satiric  genius 
came  to  him  as  of  right,  at  a  time  when  the  eyes  of  men  were 
turned  away  from  the  wonders  of  nature  and  of  the  human 
heart,  and  were  fixed  on  themselves  and  their  worldly  con- 
cerns. 

"  The  Essay  on  Man." — One  of  Pope's  last  friendships, 
that  with  Bolingbroke,  proved  the  inspiration  of  the  best  re- 
membered of  his  poems,  the  Essay  on  Man.  Bolingbroke  was 
the  representative  of  eighteenth-century  scepticism  in  its 
effort  to  substitute  a  religion  of  reason  for  one  of  revelation. 
Pope's  poem  is  in  reality  an  application  of  common-sense  to 
the  problems  of  the  universe  and  to  the  life  of  man;  and 
where  common-sense  refuses  to  carry  us,  "  beyond  the  flaming 
ramparts  of  the  world,"  there  Pope  closes  his  inquiry. 

"  Know  then  thyself,  presume  not  God  to  scan, 
The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man." 

The  first  epistle  is  concerned  with  man's  place  in  nature; 
the  second  with  individual  ethics;  the  third  with  the  origin 
of  society  and  politics ;  the  fourth  with  the  question  of  man's 
happiness.  In  all  four  appear  the  satisfaction  of  the  century 
with  things  as  they  are,  its  dislike  of  those  speculative  differ- 
ences which  lead  to  fanaticism,  its  trust  in  downright  utility. 

"For  forms  of  government  let  fools  contest; 
Whate'er  is  best  administered  is  best: 
For  modes  of  faith  let  graceless  zealots  fight, 
He  can't  be  wrong  whose  life  is  in  the  right  * 

In  short,  the  Essay  on  Man  is  a  marvellous  collection  of 
happily  phrased  couplets,  pointing  neatly  and  exactly  the 
beliefs  of  the  age  of  which  Pope  was  so  eminently  the  voice. 


Dr.  Johnson  193 


V.    DR.   JOHNSON,  AND  HIS   CHICLE 

Social  Position  of  Writers  in  the  Later  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury.— The  social  conditions  under  which  literature  was  ordi- 
narily practised  in  the  second  period  of  the  century,  were  very 
different  from  those  of  Queen  Anne's  day.  By  this  time,  owing 
to  the  decisive  victory  of  the  Whigs,  literature  had  lost  in  large 
part  its  value  as  a  political  weapon  in  party  strife,  and  authors 
were  obliged  to  rely  entirely  upon  the  public.  And  the  reading 
public  was  of  slow  growth.  The  writers  who  depended  upon 
it  were  compelled  to  live  in  a  squalid  Bohemia — not  unlike 
that  inhabited  by  the  popular  group  of  authors  in  the  age  of 
Elizabeth — and  to  put  forth  a  mass  of  bad  poetry,  criticism, 
and  journalism  merely  for  bread.  The  name  of  the  street 
where  many  of  them  lived,  Grub  Street,  became  a  synonym 
for  hack  writing  and  poverty.  The  aristocratic  traditions  of 
the  profession  were  supported  by  men  of  the  highest  reputa- 
tion, like  Pope,  who  could  approach  the  public  directly  through 
the  subscription  list ;  but  for  the  ordinary  writer  there  was  no 
resource  except  servitude  to  the  literary  broker  or  bookseller. 
Under  these  hard  conditions  Samuel  Johnson  and  his  friends 
slowly  made  their  way  to  distinction ;  from  that  Grub  Street 
which  Pope  and  Swift  had  scornfully  lampooned,  came  their 
successors  in  power  and  reputation. 

Johnson's  Life. — Samuel  Johnson  was  born  in  1709,  the  son 
of  a  Lichfield  bookseller.  He  was  at  Oxford  for  a  time,  but 
his  father's  failure  in  business  obliged  him  to  leave  the  Uni- 
versity. After  vainly  trying  to  win  his  bread  as  a  teacher,  he 
tramped  to  London.  Here  he  lived  in  a  state  of  wretched- 
ness which  is  reflected  in  his  Lije  of  Savage,  a  poet  who 
was  his  companion  in  Grub  Street  misery.  Often  the  friends 
walked  the  streets  from  dusk  to  dawn  for  want  of  mere 
shelter.  One  resource  was,  indeed,  open  to  them.  Fol- 
lowing the  success  of  The  Taller  and  The  Spectator,  had  come 
the  periodical  magazines  of  miscellaneous  literature,  for  one 
of  which  Johnson  wrote  reports  of  the  debates  in  Parlia- 
ment. His  first  poem,  London  (1738),  gave  him  some  repu- 
tation, which  was  increased  by  The  Vanity  0}  Human  Wishes 


Photograph,  Copyright,  by  Frederick  Hollyer,  London. 


DR.  SAMUEL  JOHNSON 
From  a  painting  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 


Dr.  Johnson  195 

(1749).  He  also  wrote  essays  after  the  Spectator  model, 
"called  The  Rambler  (1 750-1 752).  But  his  pre-eminent  po- 
sition came  to  him  after  the  publication  of  his  Dictionary  of 
the  English  Language  in  1755.  When  he  had  announced  this 
work  seven  years  before,  Johnson  had  sought  the  support 
and  patronage  of  Lord  Chesterfield,  but  the  latter  had  been 
contemptuously  cold  toward  the  project.  When  the  work 
was  about  to  appear,  however,  the  nobleman  let  it  be  known 
that  he  would  accept  and  reward  the  dedication  of  the  work 
to  himself ;  but  it  was  now  Johnson's  turn,  and  in  his  famous 
letter  to  Chesterfield  he  wrote  for  English  literature  its  final 
declaration  of  independence  from  the  institution  of  patronage. 

The  Dictionary  made  Johnson's  fame  and  state  secure. 
In  1764  he  formed  with  Burke,  Goldsmith,  Reynolds,  and 
others,  the  famous  Literary  Club,  as  chief  member  of  which 
he  held  the  unquestioned '  headship  of  contemporary  letters 
in  England.  Still,  Johnson  was  poor;  and  to  the  end  of 
his  life  he  was  forced  to  labor  to  support  himself  and  the 
various  persons  who  fell  dependent  upon  him.  When  his 
mother  died,  in  1759,  he  wrote  his  oriental  apologue,  Rasse- 
las,  in  a  week,  to  pay  for  the  funeral.  He  edited  Shakespeare, 
and  undertook  the  preparation  of  a  series  of  Lives  of  the 
English  Poets,  which  was  completed  in  1781.  He  died  in 
1784. 

Johnson's  Style. — Johnson  continued  the  literary  traditions 
of  the  Age  of  Queen  Anne.  In  his  poetry  he  followed  Pope's 
use  of  the  heroic  couplet.  His  essays  are  modelled  upon 
the  form  set  by  The  Spectator,  though  Johnson's  papers  are 
longer,  heavier,  and  duller  than  Addison's.  The  Rambler 
essays  show,  perhaps  more  clearly  than  any  other  of  John- 
son's writings,  those  peculiarities  which  have  made  his  style 
a  by- word  for  heaviness.  The  diction  involves  a  large  pro- 
portion of  Latin  words,  due,  as  has  been  humorously  sug- 
gested, to  the  fact  that  Johnson  was  then  at  work  on  his 
lexicon,  and  used  his  Rambler  as  a  track  where  he  could 
exercise  the  words  that  had  grown  stiff  from  long  disuse. 
But  this  elaborate  manner  is  not  always  out  of  place  It 
occasionally  gives  to  Johnson's  writing  a  sombre  eloquence, 
as  in  the  opening  passage  of  Rasselas.    Moreover,  he  could 


196  The  Eighteenth  Century 

be  simple  and  colloquial  when  he  chose;  and  his  later  works, 
possibly  because  they  were  written  more  hurriedly,  are  much 
more  terse  and  rapid. 

Bos  well's  "  Life  of  Johnson." — Johnson  had  in  him  a  force 
of  character  far  greater  than  he  succeeded  in  bringing  to 
bear  on  any  of  his  literary  undertakings.  This  force  of 
character  strongly  impressed  his  contemporaries  through 
his  powers  of  conversation,  and  has  been  transmitted  to 
later  times  by  the  extraordinary  zeal  and  ability  of  the 
greatest  of  all  biographers,  James  Boswell,  whose  Life  of 
Johnson,  published  in  1 791,  is  one  of  the  classics  of  the 
century.  From  his  first  meeting  with  Johnson,  in  1763,  Bos- 
well followed  the  great  man's  doings  and  sayings  with  un- 
wearied attention.  In  his  effort  to  draw  Johnson  out  and  to 
make  him  expressive,  he  was  deterred  by  no  rebuffs,  and 
he  was  not  ashamed  to  offer  himself  as  the  butt  of  his 
master's  wit.  For  twenty  years  he  worked  with  his  eye  con- 
stantly upon  his  subject,  and  was  then  prepared  to  write  the 
biography  which  still  keeps  Johnson  in  his  place  as  the  most 
striking  figure  of  his  epoch.  Of  no  man  in  the  past  is  our 
perception  so  extraordinarily  keen  and  first-hand.  His  bulky, 
awkward  appearance,  his  brusque,  overbearing  manner,  his 
portentous  voice,  his  uncouth  gestures  and  attitudes,  his 
habits  of  whistling  or  "chuckling  like  a  hen"  in  the  intervals 
of  speaking,  and  of  "blowing  out  his  breath  like  a  whale" 
when  he  was  "exhausted  by  violence  and  vociferation" — 
all  these  have  come  down  to  us,  together  with  the  record  of 
a  great  mass  of  his  conversation.  It  is  in  this  last  that  John- 
son's power  and  Boswell's  skill  are  most  strikingly  mani- 
fested. Johnson  wrote  much,  but  nearly  always  under  the 
spur  of  necessity ;  he  talked  spontaneously.  His  reputation, 
indeed,  rests  largely  upon  such  sayings  as  "Being  in  a  ship  is 
like  being  in  gaol  with  the  chance  of  drowning,"  or  "A 
woman's  preaching  is  like  a  dog's  walking  on  his  hind  legs. 
It  is  not  done  well,  but  you  are  surprised  to  find  it  done  at 
all."  In  such  scraps  of  homely  comment  the  practical  sense 
of  the  age  expressed  itself  as  vividly  and  rememberably  as 
in  Pope's  couplets. 

To  Boswell's  "Life,"  then,  Johnson  owes  his  reputation 


Oliver  Goldsmith  197 

as  an  original  character,  and  as  a  sayer  of  good  things. 
But  there  is  another  Johnson  whom  Boswell  knew  without 
comprehending  —  the  stricken,  hopeless,  much-enduring, 
brave,  pious  soul,  who  exemplifies  so  much  of  what  is  wholly 
admirable  in  human  nature.  Johnson  suffered  grievously  in 
life.  What  with  poverty,  ill-health,  and  the  necessity  of  toil, 
which  to  his  indolent  spirit  meant  torture,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  he  came  to  believe  with  Rasselas  that  the  world  is  almost 
barren  of  joy.  Yet  he  faced  life  always  with  energy  and 
courage.  In  his  strenuousness,  his  morality,  his  refusal  to 
yield  ground  anywhere  to  the  evils  without  or  the  foes  within, 
in  his  resolve  to  draw  inspiration  from  his  own  shortcomings, 
in  all  this  Johnson  is  a  great  man,  and  for  this  he  deserves 
his  fame. 

Goldsmith;  His  Life. — Johnson's  dictatorship  of  English 
letters  was  partly  the  result  of  his  conversational  supremacy  in 
the  Literary  Club,  which  included  nearly  all  the  famous  writers 
of  the  time.  Next  to  Johnson  himself  its  most  notable  figure 
was  Oliver  Goldsmith.  Goldsmith  was  born  in  1728  in 
Ireland,  where  his  father  was  a  clergyman.  He  was  a  dull 
boy  at  school,  and  had  an  undistinguished  career  at  the 
University  of  Dublin.  After  a  succession  of  attempts  to 
get  a  start  in  life  he  went  to  Edinburgh  to  study  medicine, 
and  afterward  to  Leyden.  Thence  he  worked  or  begged  his 
way  over  a  large  part  of  Europe,  returning  to  London  in  1756. 
He  wavered  for  a, time  between  the  practice  of  medicine  and 
school  teaching,  but  finally  took  to  literature  as  it  was  prac- 
tised in  Grub  Street,  and  became  a  hack  writer  for  various 
magazines.  His  papers  called  The  Citizen  of  the  World 
(1760-1761),  consisted  of  observations  upon  English  life 
written  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  Chinaman.  He  lived  in 
extreme  poverty.  Johnson  found  him  one  day  in  lodgings, 
the*  prisoner  of  an  unpaid  landlady,  with  the  manuscript  of 
The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  by  him.  Johnson  sold  the  book, 
which  appeared  some  fifteen  months  later,  after  Goldsmith 
had  published  his  first  successful  poem,  The  Traveller 
(1764).  His  second  venture  into  poetry,  The  Deserted  Vil- 
lage, appeared  in  1770.  Meanwhile  Goldsmith  yielded  to  his 
necessities,  and  at  the  bidding  of  his  tyrants,  the  booksellers, 


Photograph,  Copyright,  by  Frederick  Hollyer,  London.  . 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 
After  a  painting  by  a  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 


Oliver  Goldsmith  199 

produced  a  number  of  histories  and  other  works  of  informa- 
tion. He  was  well  paid  for  these  comparatively  worthless 
labors ;  and  two  of  his  plays  were  fairly  successful,  The  Good- 
Natured  Man  (1768),  and  She  Stoops  to  Conquer  (1773). 
No  success,  however,  could  keep  pace  with  his  improvidence. 
He  died  in  1774  of  a  fever  which  was  aggravated  by  anxiety 
over  his  debts. 

Goldsmith  and  Johnson.  —  Goldsmith  is  almost  as  well 
known  to  us  as  Johnson,  and  largely  through  the  same 
agency,  the  industry  of  Boswell.  The  two  figures  are  in 
the  strongest  possible  contrast — Johnson,  large,  strong  of 
feature,  with  a  certain  dignity  of  bearing  in  spite  of  his 
oddities;  Goldsmith,  under-sized,  ill-formed,  frightfully  dis- 
figured by  smallpox,  and  with  a  more  than  childlike  simplicity. 
Again,  Johnson's  ponderous  thought,  sturdy  virtue,  and  strong 
common-sense  were  at  the  farthest  remove  from  Goldsmith's 
mental  vivacity,  moral  laxness,  and  practical  folly.  When 
they  joined  in  combat  of  words  at  the  club,  where  Goldsmith 
was  the  only  member  who  dared  persistently  to  provoke  the 
wrath  of  the  dictator,  Johnson  sometimes  bore  down  his 
opponent  by  sheer  weight;  but  often  Goldsmith  sent  his  stone 
to  its  mark  and  made  good  his  retreat,  as  when  he  doubted 
Johnson's  ability  to  write  a  fable  because  he  would  inevitably 
make  the  little  fishes  talk  like  whales. 

Goldsmith's  Humanity. — Goldsmith's  lack  of  practical  abil- 
ity brought  him  both  scorn  and  pity  in  his  own  day,  but  in 
our  eyes  his  incapacity  is  in  rather  refreshing  contrast  to  the 
hard  common-sense  of  that  age.  His  difficulties  came  partly 
from  generosity,  partly  from  his  blind  trust  in  the  world.  For 
Goldsmith  threw  himself  upon  life  with  the  na'ive  impru- 
dence of  a  child.  Whether  traversing  Europe  as  a  penniless 
student,  or  selling  his  masterpieces,  Goldsmith  took  no 
thought  for  the  morrow.  And  with  this  confidence  in  his 
fellows  went  a  great  love  for  them,  a  love  apparent  in  all  the 
writings  into  which  he  put  his  real  self.  His  papers  in  The 
Citizen  of  the  World,  though,  like  Addison's,  often  directed 
against  the  faults  and  absurdities  of  men,  have  a  tenderness 
which  goes  beyond  Addison's  mildness,  a  note  of  kinship 
with  humanity  that  is  very  different  from  the  Spectator's 


200  The  Eighteenth  Century 

aloofness.  Goldsmith's  poems  are  written  in  the  heroic 
couplet,  but  in  spirit  they  are  far  removed  from  Pope's.  The 
Traveller  is  a  survey  of  the  countries  of  Western  Europe, 
those  which  Goldsmith  had  visited  in  his  journeyings;  but 
instead  of  the  complacent  optimism  of  the  Essay  on  Man, 
we  find  pictured  both  the  evil  and  the  good  in  man's  situa- 
tion. The  Deserted  Village  is  also  a  "  prospect  of  society," 
more  powerful  because  more  detailed.  The  village  of  Auburn 
is  described  with  its  happy,  humble  life,  centering  around 
the  two  characters  of  the  village  parson  and  the  schoolmaster, 
both  drawn  with  tenderness  and  no  little  humor.  But  the 
village  is  depopulated  by  order  of  its  landlord,  and  Gold- 
smith follows  the  exiles,  compelled  to  wander  over  seas  to 
remote  America,  "where  wild  Altama  murmurs  to  their 
woe."  In  this  protest  on  behalf  of  the  individual  against 
the  institution  which  crushes  him  Goldsmith  was  a  prophet 
of  the  approaching  revolution. 

Goldsmith's  Plays. — Goldsmith's  sympathy,  however,  did 
not  lead  him  into  extravagant  appeals  to  emotion.  His  plays 
were  an  effort  to  substitute  for  the  prevailing  "comedy  of 
tears  "  a  healthy  comedy  of  laughter.  Goldsmith,  indeed,  took 
his  own  misfortunes  with  so  much  spirit  and  humor  that  he 
could  not  be  much  concerned  about  imaginary  griefs,  and  his 
trust  in  the  goodness  of  the  world  was  so  perfect  that  with  him 
sorrow  was  always  turned  into  joy.  This  optimism  gives  its 
color  alike  to  his  novel  and  to  his  plays.  She  Stoops  to  Conquer, 
the  best  known  of  the  latter,  is  a  charming  idyl,  in  which  the 
rough  edges  of  the  world  are  ground  smooth,  in  which  faults 
turn  out  to  be  virtues,  and  mistakes  prove  blessings.  At 
times  the  stage-land  copies  the  actual  world  with  fidelity,  as 
in  the  riotous  scene  at  the  "Three  Pigeons,"  with  which 
the  play  opens.  But  the  magic  of  comedy  is  over  all,  a 
magic  much  subdued,  indeed,  from  the  brilliant  romance  of 
Shakespeare's  day,  but  still  potent.* 

Sheridan. — Goldsmith's  plays  are  a  reflection  of  the  ideal- 
ism which  was  beginning  to.  manifest  itself  in  the  realistic 

*  Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wakefield  will  be  discussed  in  the  next  chapter, 
together  with  other  eighteenth-century  fiction. 


Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan  201 

age.  Opposed  to  him  is  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan  (1751- 
1816),  whose  dramas  are  written  in  a  mood  of  satirical  obser- 
vation of  the  surface  of  life.  Sheridan  was  born  at  Dublin, 
of  English-Irish  stock.  After  a  romantic  runaway  marriage 
he  settled  in  London;  and  when  only  twenty-three  he  pro- 
duced The  Rivals  (1775).  In  1777,  after  his  assumption  of 
the  directorship  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  he  put  on  his  best 
play,  The  School  for  Scandal,  and  in  1779  The  Critic. 

The  School  for  Scandal  sets  forth  the  eighteenth-century 
world  of  fashion,  which,  in  its  frivolous  artificiality,  lent  itself 
readily  to  the  purposes  of  the  comedian.  In  this  corrupt 
society  Lady  Teazle  has,  for  form's  sake,  provided  herself 
with  an  admirer,  Joseph  Surface.  Meanwhile  Joseph,  a  cold 
hearted  hypocrite,  has  plans  of  his  own,  one  of  which  is  to 
marry  Sir  Peter  Teazle's  niece  Maria,  and  another  to  sup- 
plant his  own  brother  Charles,  a  good-natured  spendthrift, 
in  their  uncle's  affection.  The  uncle,  Sir  Oliver,  returns 
from  India,  introduces  himself,  as  a  money-lender,  to  Charles, 
whom  he  finds  ready  to  sell  even  his  family  portraits,  except 
that  of  Sir  Oliver  himself.  This  modest  bit  of  loyalty  serves 
to  reinstate  the  prodigal  in  his  uncle's  good  opinion;  while 
Joseph,  discovered  on  all  sides,  fades  out  of  the  play  in 
disgrace.  At  first  sight,  The  School  for  Scandal,  with  its 
opening  scenes  in  which  gossip  runs  wild,  seems  to  revive 
the  world  of  the  Restoration  drama,  but  there  is  a  difference. 
Light,  trifling,  frivolous  as  is  Sheridan's  society,  it  is  not 
fundamentally  immoral.  His  people  play  with  fire,  but  they 
are  not  burned.  So  much  had  the  moral  and  social  force 
of  the  century  accomplished,  in  the  years  since  Jeremy  Col- 
lier's attack  on  the  stage. 

VI.     EDMUND   BURKE    (1729-1797) 

Burke's  Early  Life. — Burke  was  born  in  Ireland,  in  1729. 
He  was  educated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and  thence,  after 
taking  his  degree  in  1748,  went  up  to  London  to  study  law, 
but  soon  turned  aside  into  literature.  His  first  important 
work  was  an  Enquiry  into  the  Origin  of  our  Ideas  of  the 
Sublime  and  the  Beautiful  (1756).    In  1765  he  became  sec- 


202  The  Eighteenth  Century 

retary  to  the  Whig  prime-minister,  the  Marquis  of  Rock- 
ingham, and  Member  of  Parliament.  Although  he  never 
held  high  office,  he  was  for  years  the  brain  of  the  Whig  Party 
in  its  effort  to  deal  with  the  new  problems  arising  from  the 
growth  of  England  as  a  colonial  power  both  in  America  and 
in  India.  »The  view  of  his  contemporaries,  that  he  was  a 
man  wasting  the  greatest  powers  on  passing  affairs  of  the 
day,  is  expressed  in  Goldsmith's  epigram: 

"  Who,  born  for  the  universe,  narrowed  his  mind, 
And  to  party  gave  up  what  was  meant  for  mankind." 

Yet  so  profound  was  Burke's  thought,  and  so  noble  its  presen- 
tation, that  his  writings  are  of  value  to-day,  irrespective  of 
the  occasions  which  called  them  forth. 

Burke's  Views  on  America  and  India. — It  is  Burke's  pecu- 
liar "distinction  that  he  saw  the  dangers  gathering  over 
England  from  all  quarters,  and  strove  to  avert  them.  He 
pointed  out  the  one  way  of  escape  in  the  American  situation. 
His  first  speech  in  Parliament  was  in  favor  of  the  repeal 
of  the  stamp  tax.  His  speech  on  American  taxation  was 
delivered  in  1774;  his  great  speech  on  Conciliation  with 
America  in  1775.  When  England  emerged  from  the  war 
against  the  coalition  of  European  powers,  with  the  loss  indeed 
of  America,  but  with  victory  in  other  quarters,  Burke  in- 
stantly began  to  press  his  inquiry  into  the  circumstances  of 
that  triumph.  The  chief  success  of  England  had  been  in 
India,  and  the  man  who  had  won  it  was  Warren  Hastings. 
Against  him  Burke  levelled  his  attack.  Instead  of  thanking 
God  that  things  had  turned  out  so  well,  he  asked  why  they 
had  turned  out  well,  on  what  principles  the  Indian  Empire 
had  been  conquered  and  administered,  and  whether  those 
principles  were  founded  upon  justice  and  humanity.  In 
1785  he  delivered  his  arraignment  of  English  methods  in 
India,  in  his  speech  on  The  Nabob  0}  Arcoi's  Debts;  and 
the  following  year  he  moved  the  impeachment  of  Warren 
Hastings  for  his  cruel  and  mercenary  treatment  of  his  In- 
dian subjects.  Two  years  later  he  opened  the  case  before 
the  House  of  Lords,  and  he  continued  to  manage  it  until 
the  acquittal  of  Hastings  in  1795. 


Edmund  Burke  203 

Burke's  Views  on  France. — In  the  last  year  of  his  life 
Burke  led  the  opposition  to  the  French  Revolution.  This 
attitude  involved  a  separation  from  his  party,  but  Burke 
took  the  step  without  flinching.  His  Reflections  on  the  Revo- 
lution in  France,  published  in  1790,  and  the  reviews  of 
French  affairs  which  followed,  did  much  to  check  the  rising 
sympathy  with  the  movement,  in  England  and  on  the  con- 
tinent. In  this  opposition  Burke  took  a  larger  point  of  view 
than  that  of  mere  prejudice.  He  believed  that  England  had 
a  world  mission  in  stemming  the  tide  of  the  revolution  and 
in  marshalling  the  forces  of  order  in  Europe.  Right  or 
wrong,  the  struggle  of  England  against  France  between  1 794 
and  181 5  is  a  splendid  act  in  the  drama  of  nations.  It  is 
scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  the  leading  role  which  Eng- 
land played  in  those  years  was  cast  for  her  by  Burke..  He 
wrote  the  lines  which  the  cannon  declaimed  at  Trafalgar  and 
Waterloo. 

Burke  has  been  criticised  for  his  attack  on  the  French 
Revolution,  as  being  behind  his  age.  Nevertheless  his  atti- 
tude was  the  result  of  his  principles,  and  rested  on  the  same 
philosophy  that  guided  his  action  in  other  matters.  For 
Burke  was  in  character  essentially  practical.  His  speeches 
on  the  American  crisis  testify  to  his  power  of  seeing  a  situa- 
tion as  it  really  was,  and  tossing  aside  all  abstract  considera- 
tions. "I  think  it  may  be  necessary,"  he  told  Parliament, 
"to  consider  distinctly  the  true  nature  of  the  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances of  the  object  which  we  have  before  us.  Because 
after  all  our  struggle,  whether  we  will  or  not,  we  must  govern 
America  according  to  that  nature,  and  to  those  circumstances; 
and  not  according  to  our  own  imaginations ;  nor  according 
to  abstract  ideas  of  right;  by  no  means  according  to  mere 
general  theories  of  government."  This  is  the  best  expression 
of  what  may  be  called  Burke's  genius  for  facts,  a  quality 
which  he  shared  with  other  great  men  of  his  century,  notably 
with  Swift.  It  was  this  sense  of  fact  which  impelled  his 
opposition  to  the  abstract  political  theories  of  the  French 
Revolution. 

Burke's  Connection  with  Romanticism. — The  great  differ- 
ence between  Swift  and  Burke  is  to  be  found  in  the  imagi- 


204  The  Eighteenth  Century 

native  power  of  Burke's  sympathy — a  sympathy  which  pen- 
etrated to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  and  made  the 
wrongs  of  the  American  colonist,  the  sufferings  of  the  Hindu 
peasant,  and  the  sorrows  of  the  queen  of  France  as  vividly 
real  to  his  hearers  as  the  sights  of  London.  In  short,  Burke, 
like  Scott  and  Wordsworth,  was  a  romanticist  in  feeling, 
though  a  conservative  in  political  thought. 

It  is  the  feeling  behind  his  thought  that  gives  to  Burke's 
style  its  far-reaching  eloquence.  The  subjects  with  which 
he  dealt  are  not  those  which  we  think  of  as  lending  themselves 
to  imaginative  treatment.  Burke  got  up  his  facts  carefully, 
and  built  the  arguments  of  his  speeches  and  papers  out  of 
solid  material  with  the  most  careful  regard  to  logical  structure. 
But  playing  over  this  seemingly  refractory  substance  of  fact, 
constantly  bringing  it  to  white  heat,  is  the  flame  of  his  passion, 
now  a  burning  love  of  justice,  now  a  consuming  fire  of  hatred 
of  all  the  hypocrisies,  oppressions,  cruelties,  treacheries  under 
the  sun.  Swift  had  as  fierce  an  indignation  against  the  un- 
godly; but  while  Swift's  world  was  the  petty  world  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  Burke's  world,  geographically  and  in- 
tellectually, was  the  great  one  of  modern  thought.  And 
while  Swift  masked  his  feeling  behind  a  style  of  severe  plain- 
ness and  restraint,  Burke  gave  his  fervent  spirit  utterance  in 
a  rhetoric  which  included  in  its  range  visions  as  gorgeous 
as  the  East,  the  sound  of  words  as  of  many  waters,  effects 
of  pathos  and  invective  that  moved  the  hearts  of  his  hearers 
to  pity,  terror,  and  wrath. 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— The  writers  of  Queen  Anne's  day,  Swift, 
Pope,  Addison,  Steele,  represent  the  classical  impulse;  they  illustrate 
the  literary  treatment  of  social  topics  with  a  view  to  artistic  perfec- 
tion according  to  definite  standards  and  in  approved  forms, — standards 
and  forms  which  they  believed  to  have  behind  them  the  authority  of  the 
classical  writers. 

Explain  the  connection  between  literature  and  politics  in  this  period. 
Was  it  a  benefit  to  literature  ?  What  elements  in  the  life  of  the  time 
stirred  the  reforming  zeal  of  writers?  What  was  their  method  of 
dealing  with  abuses  ?  What  example  of  law  and  order  did  literary 
men   themselves  set?    How  does   the  literary  style  compare  with 


Review  Outline  205 

fashions  of  the  time  in  dress  and  etiquette  ?  Why  is  the  age  of  Queen 
Anne  called  the  Augu6tan  age  ?  Why  is  the  age  memorable  in  English 
history  ?     Explain  the  close  association  of  writers  of  this  period. 

How  was  Swift's  early  life  unhappy  ?  Can  you  trace  any  connection 
between  his  experience  in  these  years  and  his  later  attitude  toward 
the  world  ?  Name  his  early  satires.  Outline  Swift's  connection  with 
the  political  parties  of  the  day.  What  was  his  reward  ?  Name  his 
chief  works  after  his  retirement  to  Ireland.  Who  was  "  Stella  "  ? 
To  what  personal  peculiarity  was  Swift's  writing  due?  With  what 
personal  trait  is  his  satire  to  be  connected  ?  Tell  the  story  of  Swift 
and  Partridge.  How  do  the  Partridge  tracts  illustrate  Swift's  method  ? 
Outline  "  Gulliver's  Travels."  Point  out  the  opportunities  which  it 
affords  for  satire.  Compare  Swift's  Utopia  with  Sir  Thomas  More's. 
Was  Swift  a  genuine  reformer  ?    What  purpose  do  his  writings  serve  ? 

Explain  the  growth  of  periodical  literature  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
What  was  the  peculiar  field  of  "  The  Tatler  "  ?  Why  was  it  replaced  by 
"  the  Spectator  "  ?  Outline  the  life  of  Addison,  noting  his  connection 
with  political  affairs.  What  is  the  source  of  his  attractiveness  ?  Can 
you  suggest  in  what  ways  his  character  appears  in  his  writing  ?  What 
was  Addison's  main  object  in  "  the  Spectator"  ?  With  what  subjects 
did  he  deal?  What  characters  did  he  create?  Contrast  his  satire 
with  Swift's.  Why  is  Addison's  style  a  good  one  to  imitate  ?  (Note 
the  passage  in  Franklin's  Autobiography  in  which  he  describes  his 
use  of  "  the  Spectator.")     Contrast  Addison  and  Steele  in  character. 

Why  is  there  no  sharp  division  between  prose  and  poetry  of  the 
eighteenth  century  ?  Discuss  the  life  of  Pope.  What  is  the  im- 
portance of  Pope's  Homer  in  the  social  history  of  authorship  ?  Describe 
Pope's  life  at  Twickenham.  Mention  Pope's  later  works.  Was 
Pope  a  great  man  ?  Was  he  a  great  poet  ?  What  are  his  limitations 
as  a  poet  and  what  his  virtues  ?  What  is  the  poetic  creed  of  the 
"  Essay  on  Criticism  "  ?  What  was  his  aim  in  the  translation  of 
Homer  ?  In  what  poems  did  Pope  deal  with  the  life  of  his  own  day  ? 
What  is  "  The  Rape  of  the  Lock."  ?  Wherein  does  its  satire  consist  ? 
What  part  did  personal  relations  play  in  Pope's  life  ?  What  was  the 
"  Dunciad  "  ?  Outline  the  "  Essay  on  Man.  "  To  whose  influence  on 
Pope  is  the  latter  ascribed  ?     What  is  the  value  of  the  poem  to-day  ? 

In  the  second  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  literary  men  of  London 
gathered  about  Johnson  as  a  centre;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that 
there  was  a  growing  spirit  of  revolt  from  the  classical  ideals  which 


206  The  Eighteenth  Century 

he  represented.  Against  the  diminished  realm  of  authorship  whicn 
Johnson  ruled  must  be  set  the  romanticists,  Collins,  Gray,  Blake,  Cow- 
per,  and  Burns,  to  be  discussed  in  Chapter  XII. 

How  is  Johnson's  life  typical  of  the  social  status  of  authors  in  the 
middle  of  the  century?  What  resource  was  left  to  them  after  the 
decline  of  their  political  influence  ?  What  were  Johnson's  relations 
with  Chesterfield  ?  Mention  Johnson's  chief  works.  In  what  ways 
does  Johnson  continue  the  work  of  the  classical  school  ?  To  what 
qualities  does  Boswell's  "  Life  of  Johnson  "  owe  its  greatness  as  biog- 
raphy ?     What  personal  impression  does  it  give  us  of  Johnson? 

Sketch  the  life  of  Goldsmith.  What  were  his  personal  relations  to 
Johnson  ?  How  does  his  character  differ  from  Johnson's  ?  Con- 
trast the  philosophy  of  the  two  men.  Summarize  "  The  Deserted 
Village."  How  do  its  personal  sketches  differ  from  those  in  Pope's 
satires  ?  In  what  ways  does  the  poem  suggest  the  rise  of  romanticism  ? 
Why  is  Goldsmith  called  an  "idealist"?  In  what  does  Sheridan's 
realism  consist  ?  How  does  Sheridan  differ  from  the  Restoration 
dramatists  ? 

What  part  did  Burke  play  in  the  history  of  the  time  ?  What  did  he 
contribute  to  literature  ?  Discuss  the  three  periods  of  his  political 
activity.  In  which  was  Burke  successful  according  to  the  point  of 
view  of  the  time?  To  which  do  his  most  valuable  writings  belong? 
Can  you  trace  any  unity  in  Burke's  intellectual  attitude  during  all 
three  periods  ?  Note  the  points  of  contact  between  Burke's  thought 
and  the  romantic  movement.  To  what  is  the  greatness  of  Burke's 
style  due  ?  Contrast  his  outlook  at  the  close  of  the  century  with  that 
of  Swift  at  the  beginning. 


READING  GUIDE.— The  works  of  the  eighteenth  century  gen- 
erally read  in  school  are  Addison's  "  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers," 
and  Burke's  "  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America."  In  addition, 
pupils  should  read  "  Gulliver's  Travels, "  or  some  abridgment  of  it, 
and  Goldsmith's  "  Deserted  Village."  If  possible  Pope's  "  Rape  of  the 
Lock  "  should  be  added.  Addison's  papers  furnish  a  great  amount  of  de- 
tail from  which  pictures  of  eighteenth-century  life  both  in  town  and  coun- 
try may  be  constructed.  Additional  papers  from  "  The  Spectator  "  may 
be  chosen  from  Morley's  one-volume  edition  (Routledge).  "  Gulliver's 
Travels,"  should  be  read,  of  course,  primarily  for  its  interest  as  a  tale. 


Reading  Guide  207 

In  addition,  however,  the  real  meaning  of  the  book  as  the  most  vigor- 
ous criticism  of  life  which  the  century  has  left  us  should  be  perceived. 
Many  of  the  references  to  contemporary  things  (especially  in  the  third 
book)  are  to  be  understood  only  by  careful  study,  but  the  scope  of  the 
general  attack  upon  human  nature  is  obvious.  It  may  be  compared  not 
only  with  More's  "  Utopia,"  but  with  "  Sartor  Resartus,"  the  theme  of 
which  was  indeed  partly  suggested  to  Carlyle  by  Swift's  "  Tale  of  a 
Tub."  "Gulliver's  Travels"  is  published  in  Henry  Morley's  Caris- 
brook  Library  (Routledge  &  Co.).  An  excellent  volume  of  selections 
from  Swift  is  edited  by  F.  C.  Prescott  (Holt's  English  Readings).  In 
contrast  with  Swift's  works,  Goldsmith's  "Deserted  Village"  affords 
evidence  of  the  wider  view  of  humanity  and  deeper  sympathy  which  were 
characteristic  of  the  new  poetry.  It  may  be  compared  interestingly 
with  Pope's  "Rape  of  the  Lock."  Burke's  speech  also  bears  witness  to 
the  breadth  of  thought  which  supplanted  the  narrow  interests  of  the  first 
half  of  the  century. 

No  group  of  authors  is  capable  of  being  presented  to  a  class  more 
attractively  than  those  of  Queen  Anne's  day.  They  are  far  enough 
away  in  point  of  time  to  have  something  of  the  fascination  of  antiquity, 
and  yet  not  so  remote  as  to  be  altogether  removed  from  our  interest 
or  comprehension.  The  biographies  in  the  English  Men  of  Letters 
series  are  generally  good,  and  in  the  case  of  Steele  Mr.  Dobson's  volume 
in  English  Worthies  (Scott)  is  excellent.  The  appreciations  in  Thack- 
eray's "English  Humourists  of  the  Eighteenth  Century"  are  always  sug- 
gestive and  picturesque.  For  fuller  accounts  of  the  history  of  the  time 
Green's  "Short  History  of  the  English  People"  may  be  recommended  to 
the  pupil.  The  teacher  will  find  Lecky's  "  History  of  England  in  the 
Eighteenth  Century  "  valuable.  Of  histories  of  literature  in  the  eight- 
eenth century  T.  S.  Perry's  (Harper)  is  useful  as  containing  much  out- 
of-the-way  information.  Edmund  Gosse's  "  From  Shakespeare  to  Pope  " 
is  also  valuable.  Of  importance  to  scholars  is  A.  Beljame's  "Le  Pub- 
lic et  les  Hommes  de  Lettres  en  Angleterre."  There  are  many  books 
which  deal  with  the  social  life  of  the  age  of  Queen  Anne,  among  which 
Sydney's  "  England  and  the  English  in  the  Eighteenth  Century  "  and 
Ashton's  "  Social  Life  in  the  Reign  of  Queen  Anne "  are  likely  to 
prove  of  special  use  to  a  class  reading  Addison's  essays.  The  most 
important  source  of  social  information  and  personal  gossip  for  the 
latter  part  of  this  century  is  Boswell's  "Life  of  Johnson."  It  does  for 
us  in  its  period  what  Pepys's  "Diary"  and  Addison's  essays  do  in  the  two 


208  The  Eighteenth  Century 

epochs  preceding,  that  is,  puts  us  directly  into  contact  with  the  life  of 
the  time  through  the  records  of  a  close  observer.  If  pupils  cannot  be 
expected  to  read  Boswell  for  themselves,  some  selections,  at  least,  should 
be  read  aloud  in  class.  Birkbeck  Hill's  edition  (Clarendon  Press)  is 
best  furnished  with  notes. 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  NOVEL 

I.    INTRODUCTION 

The  Novel  and  the  Drama. — As  the  drama  was  the  char- 
acteristic and  natural  form  of  literature  in  the  Elizabethan 
age,  so  the  novel  has  been  the  prevailing  type  in  the  last  two 
centuries.  For  this  change  many  reasons  may  be  assigned. 
In  the  first  place,  the  novel  allows  the  author  greater  freedom 
in  handling  his  story.  Instead  of  relying  solely  on  the  words 
and  acts  of  his  characters,  as  in  the  drama,  the  novelist  can 
deal  with  their  thoughts  also;  and  instead  of  leaving  these 
characters  to  explain  themselves,  he  can  give  his  own  com- 
ment upon  their  lives.  Thus  the  novel  in  some  ways  lends 
itself  more  easily  than  the  drama  to  the  presentation  of  the 
complicated  problems  and  characters  of  modern  life.  More- 
over, in  the  diffusion  of  English-speaking  people  over  the 
world,  the  public  which  is  interested  in  literature  has  becohie 
too  widely  scattered  to  be  dependent  in  large  measure  upon 
the  theatre.  The  magazine- and  the  circulating  library  have 
come  to  occupy  the  place  which  for  the  Elizabethan  was 
filled  by  the  stage.  This  latter  fact  in  itself  is  sufficient, 
though  other  reasons  may  be  given,  to  explain  the  pre- 
dominance of  the  novel  in  modern  literature. 

Early  Fiction. — For  the  beginning  of  the  modern  novel 
we  must  go  back  to  the  stories  of  the  Middle  Ages.  These 
were  in  general  of  two  kinds,  adapted  to  two  audiences, 
the  nobles  and  the  people.  Of  the  first  class  were  the  ro- 
mances clustering  about  such  heroes  as  Charlemagne  and 
King  Arthur,  and  dealing  with  knightly  adventure,  mystical 
religious  experience,  and  courtly  love.  These  were  told  first  in 
verse,  later  in  prose.     Being  written  for  an  aristocratic  class, 


210  The  Eighteenth-Century  Novel 

the  romances  of  chivalry  presented  a  highly  idealized  view 
of  life,  in  which  strength  and  virtue  were  exaggerated.  The 
fiction  of  the  common  people  was  decidedly  more  in  the 
spirit  of  actual  life,  or,  as  we  should  say,  realistic.  For  them, 
the  stories  of  the  knightly  epics  were  in  part  retold,  often 
in  a  spirit  of  burlesque.  Sometimes  the  vices  and  follies  of 
men  were  represented  in  short  tales;  the  hypocrisy  of  the 
clergy,  for  example,  being  a  favorite  subject.  Many  tales 
were  brought  into  Europe  from  the  Orient,  and  others  grew 
up  about  popular  characters.  Such  stories  as  these  abounded 
in  Italy,  where  they  were  called  novelle,  from  which  word 
comes  the  term  novel. 

Although  the  novel  drew  its  name  from  Italy,  it  first  at- 
tained something  like  its  modern  form  in  Spain.  There  the 
spirit  of  burlesque  aroused  by  the  contrast  between  the  ideals 
of  chivalry  and  the  affairs  of  actual  life,  led  to  the  production 
of  stories  known  as  picaresque  romances.  In  these  the 
hero  is  a  rascal  (picaro  =  rogue)  who  wanders  from  place  to 
place,  finding  all  manner  of  adventures,  amusing  and  scan- 
dalous; he  is  not,  like  the  knight-errant,  bent  upon  finding 
the  Holy  Grail,  nor  upon  rescuing  injured  princesses,  but  is 
intent  merely  upon  satisfying  his  personal  wants.  The 
typical  Italian  novella  and  the  Spanish  rogue  story  resem- 
bled each  other  in  their  realism,  in  the  faithfulness  with  which 
they  reproduced  the  motives  of  actual  men  and  the  manners 
of  actual  life.  They  are  the  source  of  the  realistic  novel 
of  to-day,  while  what  we  call  the  romance  looks  back  to  the 
epic  of  chivalry  for  its  origin.  Both  Italian  and  Spanish 
stories  were  translated  into  English  in  large  numbers  during 
the  Renaissance. 

In  the  seventeenth  century  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress 
is  the  best  example  of  fiction  written  for  the  Puritan  middle 
class.  In  the  eighteenth  century  the  demand  of  that  class 
for  reading  matter  which  should  deal  with  actual  life,  in  a 
way  productive  both  of  amusement  and  profit,  resulted  in 
the  stories  of  Daniel  Defoe. 


Daniel  Defoe  211 


II.   DANIEL   DEFOE    (1659--1731) 

Defoe's  Life. — Daniel  Defoe  was  born  in  London  in  1659. 
His  father  was  a  butcher,  and  by  religion  a  Dissenter.  He 
intended  his  son  for  the  ministry,  but  Daniel  preferred  to  go 
into  trade,  which  he  followed  for  some  years  with  fortunes 
varying  from  prosperity  to  bankruptcy.  He  became  inter- 
ested in  politics,  and  held  various  minor  offices  under  Will- 
iam III.  One  of  his  early  political  writings  showed  his  na- 
tive talent  for  fiction.  The  Tory  party  believed  in  punishing 
persons  who  did  not  attend  the  services  of  the  English  Church. 
Defoe,  pretending  to  write  as  a  Tory,  put  forth  a  pamphlet 
called  The  Shortest  Way  with  Dissenters,  in  which  he  ad- 
vised treatment  so  severe  that  people  generally  were  disgusted 
with  the  policy  of  persecution.  Although  Defoe  concealed 
his  real  personality,  the  trick  was  discovered;  he  was  ar- 
rested and  sentenced  to  exposure  in  the  pillory  and  a  long 
imprisonment.  While  in  prison  he  edited  the  Review,  one 
of  the  earliest  English  newspapers.  He  was  released  to  be- 
come a  servant  of  the  government  which  had  imprisoned 
him,  and  was  employed  almost  until  the  close  of  his  life  by 
both  parties  as  a  secret  agent,  perhaps  as  a  spy. 

Defoe  continued  to  write  for  newspapers,  and  as  an  enter- 
prising journalist  he  published  the  lives  of  various  people  of 
interest  to  the  public :  of  Peter  the  Great  for  one ;  of  Jonathan 
Wild,  a  notorious  criminal  and  thief- taker,  for  another;  of 
Captain  Avery,  a  famous  pirate,  for  a  third.  His  life  brought 
him  into  contact  with  all  sorts  of  adventurers ;  being  gifted 
with  curiosity  and  a  retentive  memory,  he  listened  to  their 
stories  and  afterward  wrote  them  out.  When  his  material 
failed  he  drew  upon  his  imagination;  but  he  realized  that 
he  was  writing  for  people  who  demanded  fact,  who  perhaps 
thought  it  wrong  to  read  fiction,  and  accordingly  he  tried 
to  give  every  appearance  of  reality  to  his  narratives. 

"  Robinson  Crusoe." — While  working  on  the  border  line 
between  biography  and  fiction,  Defoe  was  attracted  by  the 
story  of  a  sailor,  Alexander  Selkirk,  who  had  been  wrecked 
on  an  island  in  the  Pacific,  and  had  remained  there  for  many 


212  The  Eighteenth-Century  Novel 

years.  This  story  suggested  The  Surprising  Adventures  o) 
Robinson  Crusoe,  which  was  published  in  1719.  The  book 
proved  immensely  popular.  Defoe  added  a  sequel,  The 
Further  Adventures  0}  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  many  imitations 
appeared  in  England  and  throughout  Europe. 

In  Robinson  Cru  oe  Defoe  shows  what  a  contemporary 
described  as  "  the  little  art  he  is  so  truly  master  of,  of  forging 
a  story  and  imposing  it  on  the  world  for  truth. "  The  secret 
of  his  success  lies  in  his  skill  in  taking  the  point  of  view  of 
his  hero.  Defoe  throws  himself  completely  into  the  situation 
of  Crusoe,  wrecked  on  the  island.  He  foresees  the  dangers 
incident  to  such  a  situation,  takes  measures  of  precaution 
against  them,  indulges  the  natural  hope  of  escape,  and  makes 
the  wonderfully  human  mistake  of  building  a  boat  too  heavy 
for  him  to  launch.  He  is  absorbed  in  the  trivial  events  of  a 
solitary  existence ;  he  is  filled  with  satisfaction  at  his  miniature 
conquest  of  nature,  and  with  horror  at  the  frightful  discovery 
of  the  human  footprint  in  the  sand.  In  fact,  so  utterly  did 
Defoe  merge  himself  in  Crusoe  that,  when  his  work  was 
finished,  he  came  to  see  in  the  struggles  of  the  York  mariner 
an  allegory  of  his  own  toilsome  and  dangerous  experience 
of  life. 

Robinson  Crusoe  is  one  of  the  great  stories  of  the  world, 
and  one  of  those  most  typical  of  the  English  race.  As  Bun- 
yan's  Pilgrim  represents  the  spiritual,  so  does  Crusoe  the 
practical  element  in  the  English  character.  Crusoe  is  indeed 
a  man  of  piety,  but  his  religious  experience  lacks  warmth. 
His  real  significance  is  as  a  model  of  the  virtues  which  make 
civilization  possible, — courage,  patience,  ingenuity,  prudence. 
Bunyan  and  Defoe  were  both  Puritans,  and  the  difference 
between  them  serves  to  show  how  far  the  spiritual  tide  had 
ebbed  in  a  generation.  Bunyan  is  concerned  with  the  win- 
ning of  heaven;  Defoe,  with  the  problem  of  staying  in  the 
present  world  and  living  successfully  in  it. 

"  The  Journal  of  the  Plague  Year." — The  success  of  Rob- 
inson Crusoe  led  Defoe  to  put  out  a  number  of  minor  novels, 
founded  upon  the  lives  of  various  adventurers.  The  only 
one  of  Defoe's  fictions,  however,  which  ranks  with  Robinson 
Crusoe  is  The  Journal  oj  the  Plague  Year,  published  in 


Samuel  Richardson  213 

1722.  The  Great  Plague  visited  London  in  1665,  and  Defoe 
as  a  boy  must  have  heard  many  of  the  experiences  of  sur- 
vivors. A  historian  would  have  endeavored  to  base  his  ac- 
count directly  upon  these  various  authorities,  but  Defoe,  as 
a  story-teller,  presents  all  the  facts  which  he  has  gathered  as 
the  experiences  of  a  single  imaginary  character. — a  citizen  of 
London  who,  when  the  tide  of  pestilence  rose  high,  shut  him- 
self and  his  family  in  his  house,  having  provisioned  it  as  if 
to  stand  a  siege,  and  from  this  point  of  safety  viewed  the 
events  of  that  dreadful  time.  As  in  Crusoe,  Defoe  throws 
himself  entirely  into  the  situation  of  his  character,  making  us 
hear  with  his  ears  the  rumble  of  the  carts,  the  call  "  Bring  out 
your  dead,"  the  blasphemous  railing  of  the  men  in  the  tavern, 
and  the  cry  of  "Death,  Death,  Death!"  from  the  window 
in  Token  House  Yard ;  making  us  believe  on  his  author- 
ity every  gruesome  anecdote,  in  which  the  misery,  terror,  or 
madness  of  the  time  expressed  itself.  Indeed,  the  personality 
of  this  character,  the  plain,  careful,  God-fearing  citizen, 
comes  to  be  to  the  reader  the  ultimate  reality  in  the  book. 
We  believe  in  the  actual  horrors  of  the  plague  because  we 
believe  in  the  truth  of  this  imaginary  spectator  of  them. 

One  very  important  element  of  the  modern  novel  is  lacking 
in  Defoe's  stories — that  is,  plot.  The  first  great  example  of 
a  work  of  fiction  guided  throughout  its  course  by  a  single 
motive,  a  story  in  which  all  the  incidents  serve  to  bring  about 
a  certain  result,  was  Pamela,  by  Samuel  Richardson. 

III.     SAMUEL   RICHARDSON    (1689-1761) 

"Pamela." — Richardson  was  a  London  printer,  already 
over  fifty  years  old  when  an  accident  discovered  to  him  his 
power  as  a  writer  of  fiction.  A  publishing  firm  asked  him  to 
write  a  series  of  letters  which  should  serve  as  models  for 
people  in  the  lower  walks  of  life.  In  order  to  add  interest 
to  this  "complete  letter- writer,"  Richardson  hit  upon  the 
plan  of  making  it  the  correspondence  of  a  young  serving-girl 
who  writes  to  her  parents,  telling  the  story  of  her  temptation 
by  her  master,  and  of  her  resistance.  In  the  end  the  evil- 
hearted  master  reforms  and  marries  Pamela,  thus  justifying 


214  The  Eighteenth-Century  Novel 

the  sub-title,  "Virtue  Rewarded."  The  book  appeared  in 
1740.  Its  popularity  encouraged  Richardson  to  publish  a 
sequel  two  years  later,  and  two  other  long  novels,  Clarissa 
(1748),  and  Sir  Charles  Grandison  (1753). 

"  Clarissa." — The  former  is  the  story  of  a  young  lady, 
Clarissa  Harlowe,  who,  as  the  result  of  the  attemot  of  her 
family  to  force  her  into  an  unwelcome  marriage,  flees  from 
her  home.  In  her  flight  she  accepts  the  assistance  of  a  cer- 
tain Lovelace,  who  has  long  been  in  love  with  her,  and  this 
gentlemanly  reprobate  virtually  kidnaps  her.  After  many 
attempts  to  escape,  and  much  suffering,  she  dies,  leaving  her 
relatives  to  repent  of  their  cruelty,  and  Lovelace  to  suffer  the 
punishment  of  his  guilty  conscience. 

Like  Pamela,  Clarissa  is  told  by  means  of  letters  in  which 
the  different  characters  speak  for  themselves.  Indeed,  it 
is  clear  that  Richardson  thought  of  the  novel  as  an  elab- 
orated drama.  He  calls  Clarissa  "a.  dramatic  narrative"; 
and  he  does  so  very  properly,  for,  as  in  a  play,  there  is  in 
Clarissa  a  definite  catastrophe,  every  step  toward  which 
is  carefully  prepared  for  by  something  in  the  environment 
or  the  characters  of  the  actors.  Richardson  could  not, 
however,  forego  entirely  the  novelist's  right  to  personal  com- 
munication with  his  audience.  He  introduced  footnotes  in 
which  he  enforced  his  own  view  of  the  story  when  he  thought 
his  readers  likely  to  go  astray.  Especially  in  the  long  nego- 
tiation between  Clarissa  and  Lovelace  in  regard  to  the  lat- 
ter's  offer  of  marriage,  the  heroine .  needed  the  personal 
defence  of  the  author  from  the  charge  of  squeamishness. 
Though  Richardson  is  not  entirely  successful  in  securing 
his  heroine's  acquittal,  he  has  won  a  greater  triumph  in 
making  her  so  real  that  we  are  willing  to  discuss  with  him 
the  wisdom  of  her  conduct,  and  pity  her  mistakes.  Im- 
patient as  we  may  be  of  her  uncertainties,  scruples,  and 
hesitations,  we  accept  them  as  part  of  the  character  of  a 
living  woman — one  who,  in  her  humiliation  and  suffering, 
makes  an  appeal  to  which  our  human  sympathy  responds. 

Richardson's  Character.— Sir  Charles  Grandison  is  the 
story  of  the  hero's  love  affair  with  Miss  Harriet  Byron,  its 
various    obstacles,  and   happy   conclusion.     In   this    novel 


Samuel  Richardson  '      215 

Richardson  undertook  to  study  the  heart  of  a  man  with  the 
same  minute  analysis  that  he  had  practised  earlier  in  the 
case  of  his  heroines,  but  his  success  is  not  the  same.  Gran- 
dison,  for  all  the  ingenuity  expended  upon  him,  remains 
like  Lovelace,  a  machine.  Richardson  knew  women  better 
than  men.  As  a  youth  he  used  to  write  love-letters  for  the 
girls  of  his  village.  As  a  novelist  he  worked  in  close  con- 
nection with  the  feminine  part  of  his  audience.  His  circle 
of  admirers  began  with  his  wife  and  a  young  lady  visitor, 
who  stimulated  him  to  his  task  by  inquiring  daily,  "Haven't 
you  a  little  more  'Pamela,'  Mr.  Richardson?"  It  widened 
with  his  fame  until  it  included  even  great  ladies  of  fashion, 
who,  in  person  or  by  letter,  communicated  with  the  old 
printer  upon  the  progress  of  his  tales.  They  petted  him  and 
flattered  him  until  the  good  Richardson  lost  himself  in  the 
seclusion  which  they  provided,  and  forgot  the  world  of  action 
outside.  So  retired  did  he  become  that  at  last  he  would 
communicate  with  the  foreman  of  his  printing-house  only 
by  letter.  We  think  of  him  naturally  as  an  indoor  man, 
always  in  dressing-gown  and  slippers.  Because  of  this 
seclusion  Richardson's  novels  lack  breadth  and  freshness. 
They  deal  with  a  small  world  of  trifles  and  scruples,  of 
feminine-  niceties  of  sentiment  and  deportment. 

Richardson's  Purpose. — Like  Defoe,  Richardson  was  of 
the  English  middle  class,  and  wrote  primarily  to  minister  to 
its  interest  in  morality  and  in  behavior.  He  began  his  work 
with  the  humble  design  of  teaching  his  readers  to  write,  but 
his  plan  broadened  until  it  covered  the  essentials  of  the  art 
of  living.  Pamela  serves  as  a  model  for  servants ;  Clarissa  is 
perfection  in  a  higher  sphere.  Richardson's  characters  are 
all  involved  in  intricate  "questions  of  conscience.  Clarissa's 
course  is  determined  after  elaborate  discussion  of  the  right 
and  wrong  of  each  step.  In  Sir  Charles  Grandison,  it  is  only 
after  the  hero  has  dealt  with  a  succession  of  difficult  circum- 
stances arising  from  the  claims  upon  him  of  his  friend,  his 
friend's  children,  his  sister,  and  his  ward,  that  he  yields  to 
his  passion  for  Miss  Byron.  Richardson  surely  did  not 
exaggerate  when  he  declared  the  inculcation  of  virtue  to  be 
his  first  object. 


216  The  Eighteenth-Century  Novel 


IV.    HENRY   FIELDING    (1707-1754) 

Fielding's  Life. — Something  like  disgust  for  Richardson's 
moral  pretensions  led  Henry  Fielding,  the  greatest  of  eight- 
eenth-century novelists,  to  enter  the  field  of  fiction.  Fielding 
was  of  higher  birth  than  Richardson,  his  father  being  a  soldier 
of  some  renown,  and  his  grandfather  the  son  of  a  peer ;  he  had, 
too,  a  far  wider  and  more  varied  experience  of  life.  He  was 
born  in  1707,  was  educated  at  Eton,  and  afterward  went  to 
Leyden  to  study  law.  In  1727  he  returned  to  London,  where 
he  supported  himself  for  awhile  by  writing  plays.  He  married 
a  lady  of  fortune,  and  lived  for  a  time  as  a  country  gentleman ; 
but  he  at  length  exhausted  his  wife's  money,  and  returned 
to  London  in  poverty.  Deprived  of  his  profession  of  play- 
wright by  the  restrictions  of  the  licensing  act  of  1737,  he 
betook  himself  again  to  the  study  of  law,  meanwhile  support- 
ing his  family  by  miscellaneous  writing.  His  wife  died  in 
1 743,  leaving  him  with  two  children.  He  struggled  on  until 
life  was  made  somewhat  easier  for  him  by  his  appointment 
as  police  magistrate  in  London,  in  which  office  he  was  highly 
efficient.  In  1754,  broken  in  health,  he  left  England  for 
Portugal ;  a  journey  of  which  he  has  left  a  pathetic  account 
in  his  Voyage  to  Lisbon.     He  died  the  same  year. 

"Joseph  Andrews." — While  Fielding  was  earning  his  bread 
by  various  literary  ventures,  he  was  moved  to  write  a  bur- 
lesque upon  Richardson's  Pamela.  The  hero,  who  is  de- 
scribed as  Pamela's  brother,  Joseph  Andrews,  is,  like  his 
sister,  a  model  of  virtue,  but  unlike  her  he  is  turned  out  of 
doors  for  his  pains,  and  left  to  make  his  way  from  London 
to  his  home  in  the  country.  The  course  of  this  journey  brings 
Joseph  and  his  companion,  Parson  Adams,  into  manifold 
adventures,  and  introduces  them  to  men  and  women  who, 
as  Fielding  sketches  them  for  us,  are  as  vivid  as  the  figures 
in  Hogarth's  prints.  Mrs.  Towwouse,  the  innkeeper's  wife, 
Trulliber,  the  hog-raising  parson,  and  Mrs.  Slipslop  are 
drawn  with  a  broad  humor  which  becomes  caricature,  but 
they  are  essentially  true  to  the  crude  life  of  the  English 
country-side.     In  his  wide  vision  of  the  world,  in  the  fertility 


Henry  Fielding  217 

with  which  his  imagination  peoples  it,  and  in  his  power  to 
individualize  types  of  human  life,  often  with  a  touch  of 
comedy,  Fielding  is  a  realist  of  the  company  of  Chaucer. 

"Jonathan  Wild." — Joseph  Andrews  appeared  in  1742. 
Possibly  before  this  Fielding  had  written  the  story  called 
Jonathan  Wild  the  Great,  suggested  by  the  life  of  a  famous 
rascal  whom  Defoe  had  also  celebrated.  Here,  also,  Field- 
ing began  his  work  as  a  burlesque  on  other  writers,  in  this 
case  the  biographers,  who  find  every  trait  in  their  heroes  a 
sign  of  greatness.  Both  these  earlier  stories  are  written 
loosely,  with  little  care  for  construction,  but  in  his  last  two 
novels,  Tom  Jones  (1749),  and  Amelia  (1 751),  Fielding  de- 
veloped genuine  plots. 

"Tom  Jones." — Tom  Jones  opens  with  the  discovery  of 
the  hero  as  a  babe  in  the  house  of  a  virtuous  gentleman 
named  Mr.  Airworthy.  He  grows  up  with  Allworthy's 
nephew  Blifil,  who  out  of  jealousy  ruins  Tom's  reputation 
with  his  benefactor,  and  gets  him  turned  out  into  the  world. 
Meanwhile,  Tom  has  fallen  in  love  with  the  daughter  of  a 
neighbor,  Sophia  Western.  He  travels  to  London,  meeting 
adventures  in  plenty  by  the  way ;  he  passes  through  tempta- 
tions, not  unscathed;  and  finally,  by  the  discovery  of  the 
secret  of  his  birth  and  the  revelation  of  BlifiFs  villainy,  he  is 
advanced  to  his  happy  fortune,  the  favor  of  Airworthy,  and 
marriage  with  Sophia. 

Tom  Jones  may  be  taken  as  an  account  of  Fielding's 
own  experience,  the  vigorous,  careless,  adventurous  life  of 
a  good-hearted,  thoughtless  youth,  turned  loose  upon  the 
rough  life  of  English  villages,  inns,  post-roads,  and  country 
houses.  If  we  think  of  Richardson  as  always  in  his  arm- 
chair, shod  with  slippers,  we  must  fancy  Fielding  on  horse- 
back, in  jack-boots  and  spurs.  Richardson's  scenes  are 
usually  laid  within  doors,  and  the  characters  are  engaged  in 
working  out  some  complication  of  private  life.  Fielding  keeps 
his  story  out  of  doors,  and  his  characters  in  contact  with  th^ 
larger  world.  His  novels  thus  gain  in  movement  and  fresh- 
ness, in  breadth  and  picturesqueness.  Again,  Richardson's 
characters  appeal  to  us  chiefly  by  virtue  of  their  mental  strug- 
gles and  sufferings ;  Fielding's,  by  their  external  appearance 


218  The  Eighteenth-Century  Novel 

and  bearing.  The  most  fascinating  element  in  Tom  Joties  is 
the  brilliant  figure  of  the  hero  as  he  rides  across  England  in 
the  days  when  travel  was  little  less  exciting  than  war. 

"  Amelia." — In  Fielding's  last  book,  Amelia,  we  behold  .this 
brightness  somewhat  dimmed.  Captain  Booth,  the  hero, 
is  Tom  Jones  grown  older,  but  no  wiser.  Like  Fielding 
himself,  he  has  spent  his  wife's  fortune,  and  is  compelled 
to  resort  to  all  manner  of  shifts  to  live.  His  adventures 
lack,  the  picturesqueness  of  those  in  Tom  Jones.  They  are 
the  reflection  of  the  sordid  life  of  poverty  in  London,  which 
Fielding  knew  only  too  well.  The  heroine,  Amelia,  is  the 
counterpart  of  Fielding's  wife,  a  developed  portrait  for  which 
Sophia  Western  was  a  first  sketch.  Her  constancy  and  de- 
votion save  Booth  from  the  ruin  to  which  his  light  character 
tempts  him. 

Fielding's  Satire. — Fielding  has  been  taken  to  task  for  the 
frankness  with  which  he  portrayed  man's  life,  both  in  the 
case  of  Booth  and  that  of  Tom  Jones.  For  the  honesty  of  his 
picture  he  is  not  to  be  blamed ;  but  the  indifference  which  he 
shows  toward  moral  considerations,  and  his  lack  of  concern 
for  a  life  higher  than  that  of  worldly  enjoyment,  are  to  be 
regarded  as  serious  shortcomings.  But  if  Fielding  is  deficient 
in  the  spiritual  virtues,  he  has  in  abundance  those  that  belong 
to  mere  human  nature.  With  his  broad  view  of  the  world  of 
men  went  an  immense  sympathy  with  them  that  always  saves 
his  satire  from  cynicfsm.  He  laughs,  but  his  laughter  is 
never  inhuman  like  Swift's;  and  it  is  always  ready  to  give 
place  to  tenderness  and  pity.  For  him  the  tragedy  of  life 
lay  in  the  appearance  of  virtue  and  innocence  in  a  world  of 
evil,  cruelty,  and  deception.  In  his  presentation  of  this  tragedy 
Fielding  is  always  direct,  sincere,  and  simple.  The  scene  in 
which  Amelia  prepares  supper  for  Booth,  and  when  he  does 
not  come  puts  aside  the  wine  untasted  to  save  a  sixpence,  while 
her  husband  is  losing  guineas  at  the  gaming-table,  is  more 
moving  than  are  the  complicated  woes  of  Clarissa.  It  is  this 
humanity,  the  most  essential  quality  of  the  novelist,  that  makes 
Fielding's  work  permanently  winning  and  powerful. 


Later  Novelists  219 


V.  LATER  NOVELISTS 

Smollett. — Fielding's  successor,  Tobias  Smollett  (1721- 
1771)  was  a  Scotchman,  a  physician  who  failed  in  his  profes- 
sion on  account  of  his  irascible  temper,  and  who  accordingly 
took  up  the  practice  of  literature.  His  first  novel  was  Rod- 
erick Random  (1748),  a  tale  of  adventure,  in  which  he  made 
use  of  much  of  his  own  experience.  He  had  been  surgeon's 
mate  on  a  man-of-war;  accordingly,  after  describing  Rod- 
erick's youth  in  Scotland,  he  sends  his  hero  to  sea,  taking  the 
opportunity  to  insert  some  vivid  descriptions  of  naval  life.  Of 
much  the  same  type  as  this  first  novel  is  Peregrine  Pickle 
(1751).  Smollett's  last  novel,  Humphrey  Clinker,  published 
in  1 77 1,  is  his  best.  The  story  consists  of  the  adventures 
attending  the  journeys  of  a  Welsh  family  through  England 
and  Scotland.  The  adventures  are  mild  enough,  but  the 
plan  of  the  story  gives  Smollett  an  opportunity  to  describe 
men  and  things;  and  as  a  contemporary  record,  and  com- 
ment on  life  and  manners,  the  book  is  of  decided  interest. 
Moreover,  in  Humphrey  Clinker  appear  some  of  Smollett's 
best  characters,  humorous  figures  who  stand  each  for  a  sin- 
gle quality  or  mannerism, — Matthew  Bramble,  the  irascible  . 
Welsh  misanthropist,  his  sister  Tabitha,  and  Win  Jenkins 
the  maid,  who  exhausts  the  possibilities  of  fun  in  English 
misspelling.  To  these  should  be  added  the  admirable  sailor 
characters  of  the  earlier  stories:  Admiral  Trunnion  in  Pere- 
grine Pickle,  and  Bowling  and  Pipes  in  Roderick  Random. 

Sterne. — Laurence  Sterne  (17 13-1768),  was  the  son  of  a 
petty  officer  in  the  army,  and  he  himself,  born  in  barracks, 
spent  his  sickly  youth  in  moving  from  one  military  station  to 
another.  He  was  sent  to  Cambridge,  and  thence  drifted  into 
the  church,  obtaining  a  small  living  in  Yorkshire,  where,  he 
says,  "books,  fiddling,  painting,  and  shooting  were  my  chief 
amusements."  He  began  Tristram  Shandy,  as  he  says, 
"  with  no  clear  idea  of  what  it  was  to  turn  out,  only  a  de- 
sign of  shocking  people  and  amusing  myself."  The  first 
two  volumes,  published  in  1 760,  made  him  famous.  He  was 
courted  and  flattered  in  London,  promoted  in  the  church, 


220  The  Eighteenth-Century  Novel 

and  well  received  at  Paris,  for  his  book  was  an  international 
success.  Meanwhile  he  continued  to  issue  volumes  of  his 
masterpiece,  putting  into  them  material  of  any  sort  which  he 
happened  to  have  on  hand.  His  health  failing,  he  spent  a 
year  in  southern  France.  Part  of  the  experience  of  his 
journey  he  turned  into  the  seventh  volume  of  Tristram 
Shandy,  part  he  saved  for  a  book  of  travels  called  The  Senti- 
mental Journey,  of  which  two  volumes  appeared  in  1 768,  just 
before  his  death. 

"Tristram  Shandy."  Tristram  Shandy  is  not  a  novel  in 
the  proper  sense  of  the  word.  The  book  is  without  plan; 
without  beginning,  progress,  or  end.  In  the  fourth  volume 
the  hero  laments  that  though  he  is  a  year  older  than  when 
he  began  to  write,  his  story  has  not  got  beyond  the  life  of  his 
first  day.  The  author  shifts  arbitrarily  from  one  character 
to  another,  begins  conversations  in  the  middle,  interrupts 
them  with  little  essays  full  of  odd  learning,  prepares  for 
stories  which  are  never  told  and  scenes  between  his  charac- 
ters which  are  never  acted.  He  introduces  a  new  charac- 
ter, the  Widow  Wadman,  with  whom  Tristram's  Uncle  Toby 
falls  in  love,  by  a  blank  page,  on  which  the  reader  may 
write  his  own  description.  The  style  is  given  over  to  man- 
nerism ;  it  abounds  in  trick  and  innuendo,  and  has  none  of 
the  formal  regularity  that  had  marked  written  prose  since 
the  time  of  Dryden.  Like  Sterne's  life,  the  book  is  an  ex- 
altation of  whim.  In  his  life  and  in  his  art  Sterne  was  with- 
out a  sense  of  propriety,  without  respect  for  the  conventions 
that  the  eighteenth  century  was  so  much  interested  in  estab- 
lishing. 

Sterne's  Sentimentality. — Writing  thus,  at  the  instance  of 
his  moods,  Sterne  is  curiously  sentimental.  Tears  and  laugh- 
ter follow  each  other  in  his  pages,  and  sometimes  are  incon- 
gruously mingled.  He  sits  down  to  weep  beside  the  poor 
insane  Maria,  who  stares  alternately  at  him  and  at  her  goat. 
"  What  resemblance  do  you  find  ?"  he  asks.  His  pathos  is 
not  the  sympathy  of  the  strong  man  who  weeps  because  he 
must;  on  the  contrary,  he  goes  about  seeking  occasion  for 
feeling.  He  is  thus  the  chief  of  sentimentalists,  of  those  who 
write  not  to  picture  the  world  as  it  is,  but  to  draw  from  it 


Later  Novelists  221 

suggestions  for  certain  moods  and  feelings.  This  attitude, 
which  became  for  a  time  a  leading  fashion  in  literature, 
found  its  model  largely  in  Tristram  Shandy. 

"The  Vicar  of  Wakefield."  "Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field (1766)  represents  a  reaction  against  the  extreme  senti- 
mentality of  Sterne.  The  book  has  feeling  in  abundance, 
but  it  is  the  natural,  wholesome  sentiment  of  English  domes- 
tic life.  The  Vicar  and  his  family  have  griefs  enough.  They 
fall  from  their  happy  state  into  poverty.  Worse  misfortune 
comes  in  the  flight  of  the  eldest  daughter,  Olivia,  lured  away 
by  an  unworthy  lover;  in  the  burning  of  their  poor  home; 
in  the  arrest  of  the  Vicar  for  debt.  But  the  Vicar's  confidence 
in  life  is  steadfast.  Like  Goldsmith  himself,  he  believes  that 
to  laugh  is  better  than  to  weep.  Many  of  the  ills  of  life  are 
but  the  humors  of  comedy,  as  when  Moses  sells  the  horse  for 
a  gross  of  green  spectacles.  Others  are  blessings  in  disguise. 
For  Goldsmith's  world  is  an  ideal  one.  Troubles  and  dis- 
asters accumulate  like  threatening  clouds,  but  only  to  re- 
solve themselves  into  beneficent  showers.  Suffering  is  not  a 
problem ;  it  is  little  more  than  an  artistic  device  to  make  the 
world  seem  more  beautiful.  Evil  loses  its  essential  quality ; 
Olivia  is  married  to  a  rake  who  does  not  love  her,  but  even 
this  we  accept  confidently  as  a  part  of  the  happy  outcome,  so 
contagious  is  Goldsmith's  optimism,  so  triumphant  the  Vicar's, 
faith  in  the  best  of  all  possible  worlds.  One  element  of  great 
importance  in  the  modern  novel  makes  its  appearance  in 
The  Vicar  of  Wakefield — that  of  scene.  Richardson  had 
shown  skill  in  arranging  his  interiors ;  Fielding  had  given  a 
few  set  pieces  of  description,  showing  the  preference  of 
eighteenth-century  taste  for  artificial  over  natural  beauty; 
but  Goldsmith  pictured  nature  with  real  feeling  for  it,  and  it 
is,  throughout  the  book,  a  symbol  of  the  eternal  goodness 
of  the  world,  another  reason  for  putting  trust  in  life. 

The  Romantic  Novel. — Eighteenth-century  fiction  from 
Richardson  onward  shows  the  demand  of  the  reading 
public  for  a  more  sympathetic  treatment  of  life  than  the 
hard,  matter-of-fact  temperament  of  men  like  Swift  and 
Pope  could  give.  As  we  have  seen,  both  Richardson  and 
Fielding  appealed  to  the  emotions  of  their  readers,  and  in 


222  The  Eighteenth-Century  Novel 

Sterne  and  his  followers  we  have  a  school  of  writers  who  are 
properly  called  sentimentalists,  who  write  merely  to  play 
upon  the  feelings.  Toward  the  close  of  the  century  the  novel 
reflects  that  re-awakening  of  the  imagination  known  as 
the  romantic  movement  (see  next  chapter),  and  the  deeper 
feeling  for  man  as  an  individual  which  was  one  of  the  forces 
beneath  the  upheaval  of  the  French  Revolution.  The  me- 
diaeval or  "gothic  "  romance,  which  sought  to  excite  emotions 
of  wonder  and  terror  by  the  use  of  material  drawn  from  the 
superstitions  of  the  past,  finds  its  chief  representative  in  The 
Castle  oj  Otranto  (1765)  by  Horace  Walpole.  The  humani- 
tarian novel,  which  seriously  undertook  to  right  the  wrongs 
of  the  individual,  and  cure  the  evils  of  society,  was  developed 
by  a  group  of  writers  more  or  less  in  sympathy  with  the 
Revolution,  of  whom  William  Godwin,  the  author  of  Caleb 
Williams  (1794),  was  the  chief.  In  these  two  schools  we 
find  the  beginnings  of  two  great  classes  of  the  fiction  of  to- 
day, the  historical  novel  and  the  novel  of  purpose. 

REVIEW  OUTLINE. — What  are  the  causes  of  the  predominance  of 
the  novel  in  modern  English  literature  ?  What  forms  did  fiction  assume 
in  the  Middle  Ages  for  different  classes  ?  What  name  was  given  to  the 
Italian  tales?  What  was  the  picaresque  romance  ?  In  what  sense  was  it 
the  forerunner  of  the  modern  novel  ?  To  what  class  did  the  novel  espe- 
cially appeal  ?  Why  was  Defoe  especially  fitted  to  write  for  that  class  ? 
What  qualification  for  writing  fiction  did  he  show  in  his  early  political 
articles  ?  How  did  his  later  life  provide  him  with  the  material  for  his 
stories  ?  On  what  was  the  story  of  "  Robinson  Crusoe  "  founded  ? 
In  what  does  the  art  of  the  book  consist?  What  is  "  The  Journal  of 
the  Plague  Year  "  ?  What  element  of  imagination  is  involved  in  the 
narrative  ? 

What  narrative  method  does  Defoe  employ?  What  element  of 
structure  do  his  works  of  fiction  lack  ?  Under  what  circumstances  did 
Richardson  write  "Pamela"?  What  purpose  appears  in  the  sub- 
title ?  What  is  the  plot  of  "  Clarissa "  ?  How  does  Richardson's 
method  suggest  that  of  the  drama?  Wherein  does  the  strength  of 
Richardson's  character-drawing  appear?  Why  did  he  succeed  better 
with  women  than  with  men  ?  What  limitation  did  his  character  put 
upon  his  work  ?    What  place  does  moral  purpose  take  in  his  novels  ? 


Reading  Guide  223 

Outline  the  life  of  Fielding.  What  led  him  to  undertake  fiction  ? 
For  what  is  "  Joseph  Andrews  "  notable  ?  What  is  the  element  of 
satire  in  "Jonathan  Wild  "  ?  Sketch  the  plot  of  "  Tom  Jones."  How 
does  the  book  differ  in  atmosphere  from  Richardson's  works  ?  What 
relation  have  "  Tom  Jones  "  and  "  Amelia  "  to  Fielding's  own  career  ? 
In  what  does  Fielding's  pathos  consist  ? 

Mention  three  of  Smollett's  novels.  What  can  be  said  of  his  por- 
trayal of  character?  Give  an  idea  of  the  method  of "  Tristram  Shandy." 
Of  its  style.  What  is  meant  by  Sterne's  sentimentalism  ?  How  is 
"The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  a  reaction  against  it  ?  How  does  the  story 
illustrate  Goldsmith's  view  of  life  ?  What  use  does  Goldsmith  make  of 
scene  ?  In  what  ways  does  the  novel  mark  an  advance  upon  the  treat- 
ment of  life  by  Swift  and  Pope  ?  In  what  ways  does  it  reflect  the  ro- 
mantic movement  ? 

READING  GUIDE.— Every  one  should  read  "Robinson  Crusoe," 
"The  Journal  of  the  Plague  Year,"  and  "The  Vicar  of  Wakefield." 
Beyond  this  the  reading  in  eighteenth-century  fiction  must  be  left  largely 
to  the  initiative  of  the  pupil.  It  is  the  aim  of  the  text  to  present  the 
substance  and  quality  of  a  few  of  the  greater  books  like  "  Clarissa," 
'Tom  Jones,"  and  "Tristram  Shandy"  in  such  a  way  that  reading  the 
works  themselves  may  be  dispensed  with  .until  pupils  are  of  college  age. 

Lives  of  the  novelists  (except  Smollett)  appear  in  the  English  Men  of 
Letters  series,  and  in  addition  should  be  mentioned  Austin  Dobson's 
"Life  of  Goldsmith"  in  the  Great  Writers  series  (Scott).  Sir  Leslie 
Stephen  in  "Hours  in  a  Library"  has  essays  on  Defoe,  Richardson, 
Fielding,  and  Sterne  Thackeray's  "English  Humorists"  contains 
lectures  on  Fielding,  Sterne,  and  Goldsmith. 

Of  general  works  on  the  history  of  fiction  *the  teacher  or  advanced 
student  will  use  Jusserand's  "English  Novel  in  the  Time  of  Shake- 
speare "  (Unwin),  W.  L.  Cross's  "  Development  of  the  English  Novel " 
(Macmillan),  F.  H.  Stoddard's  "The  Evolution  of  the  English  Novel  " 
(Macmillan),  and  W.  E.  Simond's  "Introduction  to  the  Study  of  English 
Fiction"  (Heath). 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  REVIVAL  OF  ROMANTICISM 

I.    INTRODUCTION 

Literature  at  the  Death  of  Pope. — When  Pope  died  (1744), 
the  classical  ideal  had  been  dominant  for  three-quarters  of  a 
century.  As  we  have  seen,  the  civilizing  effect  of  this  era  upon 
literature  had  been  great.  But  in  its  zeal  for  law  and  order 
the  Augustan  Age  had  sacrificed  too  much.  It  had  marked 
as  forbidden  too  many  things  which,  sooner  or  later,  men  were 
bound  to  find  excellent  and  desirable.  It  had  set  up  standards 
of  taste  which,  in  their  narrowness  and  inflexibility,  were  bound 
in  time  to  bring  about  a  revolt. 

Signs  of  Reaction  Against  the  Classical  Ideal. — As  soon  as 
Pope's  commanding  presence  was  removed,  and  the  fascina- 
tion of  his  brilliant  example  began  to  be  a  little  dimmed,  signs 
of  such  a  revolt  were  not  long  in  making  themselves  apparent. 
Even  before  Pope's  death,  the  reaction  against  the  order  of 
things  for  which  he  stood,  had  set  in.  Here  and  there  a  poet, 
tired  of  the  sharp  click  and  hard  polish  of  the  classic  couplet, 
had  begun  to  turn  back  to  Milton  and  Spenser,  and  to  imitate 
that  fuller  and  freer  music.  Shakespeare,  the  "splendid  bar- 
barian," began  once  more  to  cast  his  spell  upon  adventurous 
readers,  and  to  fill  them  with  a  new  wonder  and  admiration. 
Things  as  they  were,  in  the  world  of  London  coffee-houses 
and  drawing-rooms,  began  for  some  minds  to  lose  their  charm, 
and  things  as  they  had  been  in  the  mysterious  past,  or  as  they 
might  still  be  in  remote  regions  of  the  earth,  began  to  attract 
men's  curiosity.  Chosen  spirits,  gifted  somehow  with  a  new 
vision,  looked  out  upon  the  world  of  nature,  and  found  that 
it  was  good.  They  looked  into  their  own  hearts,  and  found 
there  a  thousand  wayward  impulses  which  conventions  had 
long  stifled,  but  which  clamored  now  for  expression.    With 

224 


Introduction  225 

the  new  feeling  for  nature  there  went  a  new  feeling  for  man, 
a  greater  tenderness  for  the  unfortunate,  a  greater  sympathy 
with  the  humble  and  obscure,  a  livelier  curiosity  concerning 
man's  life  in  distant  regions  and  far-off  times. 

The  Romantic  Movement  Broadly  Viewed. — This  great 
awakening  we  call,  for  lack  of  a  better  word,  the  "Romantic 
Movement."  It  was  a  slow  awakening,  for  it  covered  the 
whole  period  from  about  1725  to  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  It  was  as  broad  as  it  was  slow,  for  it  covered  nearly 
the  whole  of  Western  Europe,  and  brought  in  its  train  no  less 
a  world-shaking  event  than  the  French  Revolution.  It  was 
in  essence,  as  the  Renaissance  had  been,  a  reassertion  of  the 
freedom  of  the  individual,  but  this  assertion  was  made  now 
in  a  more  spiritual  sense,  and  with  a  profounder  conception 
of  what  freedom  means  to  the  spirit  and  the  imagination. 

The  Romantic  Movement  in  Literature. — In  literature  the 
Romantic  revival  expressed  itself  in  three  main  directions. 
In  the  first  place,  it  brought  with  it  a  new  interest  in  the  past, 
especially  in  the  Middle  Ages,  because  the  life  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  with  its  turbulence,  its  strong  passions,  its  rich  barbaric 
color,  was  in  strongest  contrast  to  the  well-ordered  life  of  the 
"classic  era,"  and  it  therefore  ministered  to  that  hunger  for  the 
"picturesque,"  which  the  formality  of  the  Augustan  Age,  by 
a  natural  reaction,  had  engendered.  In  the  second  place,  the 
Romantic  revival  brought  with  it  a  new  interest  in  nature, 
especially  in  the  wilder  and  more  desolate  aspects  of  nature — 
again,  by  reaction  from  the  Augustan  indifference  to  every- 
thing which  had  not  been  pruned  and  ornamented  by  the 
hand  of  man.  In  the  third  place,  the  Romantic  movement 
brought  with  it  a  new  human  sympathy,  especially  toward 
such  human  lives  as  by  reason  of  their  humbleness  or  their 
rudeness  had  been  treated  with  contempt  by  an  aristocratic  age. 

II.    THE   ROMANTIC   PIONEERS    (FROM  THOMSON  TO  BURNS) 

Thomson's  "  Seasons  "  and  "  Castle  of  Indolence." — The 

earliest  poet  in  whom  the  workings  of  the  new  romantic  spirit 
can  be  seen,  was  James  Thomson  (1 700-1 748).  Thomson 
was  a  Scotchman,  who  came  up  to  London  in  1725.    The 


226  Revival  of  Romanticism 

following  year  he  published  the  first  section,  "Winter,"  of  a 
poem  which  he  afterward  continued  under  the  titles  "  Summer," 
"Spring,"  and  "Autumn,"  and  which  was  published  in  1730 
as  The  Seasons.  To  the  readers  of  his  own  day  the  novelty 
of  this  poem  was  great.  For  two  generations  the  first-hand 
study  of  nature  had  been  neglected.  Literature  had  found  its 
interests  in  city  life ;  or,  if  it  ventured  into  the  country  at  all, 
it  was  into  a  country  conventionalized- and  unreal,  a  country 
clipped  and  trimmed  like  a  formal  garden  in  the  Italian  style. 
Accordingly,  Thomson's  poem  had  an  aspect  of  daring  inno- 
vation. His  views  of  English  landscape,  his  description  of 
the  first  spring  showers,  of  the  summer  thunderstorms,  and  of 
the  terrors  of  the  wintry  night,  showed  an  honest  understanding 
and  love  of  that  to  which  the  eye  had  long  been  blind.  In  The 
Castle  oj  Indolence,  published  in  1748,  Thomson  went  back 
to  Spenser  for  his  inspiration.  The  poem  is  in  the  Spenserian 
stanza,  and  recaptures  something  of  the  master's  rich,  long- 
drawn  music.  The  same  golden  atmosphere  which  enwraps 
Spenser's  "land  of  faery"  steeps  the  embowered  castle  of  the 
enchanter  Indolence,  with  it?  "listless  climate,"  where  the 
plaint  of  stock-doves  mingles  with  the  sighing  of  hillside  pines. 
Gray :  His  Letters  and  Diaries. — Among  the  early  bearers 
of  the  banner  of  Romanticism,  the  most  important  name  is 
that  of  Thomas  Gray  (1716-1771).  Gray  lived  the  life  of  a 
scholar  and  recluse  at  Cambridge,  where  in  his  later  years  he 
held  a  professorship  of  history,  but  delivered  no  lectures.  He 
was  sensitive  to  all  the  finer  influences  of  the  time.  He  was 
a  delightful  letter-writer  and  diarist,  and  his  letters  and  jour- 
nals give  a  very  complete  view  of  the  intellectual  movements 
of  the  period.  Particularly  interesting  are  those  passages 
which  show  in  him  the  new  sensibility  to  picturesque  scenery 
and  to  Gothic  architecture,  two  of  the  great  enthusiasms  of 
the  romantic  innovators.  In  a  letter  written  in  early  life 
from  Switzerland,  during  a  tour  which  he  made  with  his 
friend  Horace  Walpole,  he  writes  of  the  scenery  about  the 
Grande  Chartreuse:  "Not  a  precipice,  not  a  torrent,  not  a 
cliff,  but  is  pregnant  with  religion  and  poetry.  One  need  not 
have  a  very  fantastic  imagination  to  see  spirits  there  at 
noonday."    Years  after,  in  the  Scotch  highlands,  he  writes  of 


Thomas  Gray  227 

the  mountains  as  "those  monstrous  creatures  of  God,"  and 
declares  that  they  "ought  to  be  visited  in  pilgrimage  once  a 
year."  A  generation  before  Gray  wrote  from  the  Grande 
Chartreuse,  Addison  had  crossed  the  Alps,  and  dismissed  the 
experience  thus:  "A  very  troublesome  journey.  You  can't 
imagine  how  I  am  pleased  with  the  sight  of  a  plain."  Gray's 
enthusiasm  over  the  marvels  of  mediaeval  architecture  at 
Rheims  and  Sienna,  contrasts  also  with  Addison's  comparison 
of  the  nobility  of  the  classic  Pantheon  with  the  "meanness 
of  manner"  in  the  Gothic  cathedrals.  Toward  the  end  of 
his  life  Gray  made  one  of  his  "Liliputian  journeys"  to  the 
English  lake  country  afterward  made  famous  by  Words- 
worth's poetry.  The  journal  which  he  kept  on  this  occasion  is 
remarkable  for  the  intimate  sympathy  which  it  shows  with 
the  changes  of  mood  in  the  landscape,  under  variations  of 
weather  and  time  of  day.  Gray  sees  nature  with  a  modern 
eye,  as  a  living  thing  full  of  sentiment  and  meaning. 

Gray's  Poetry. — Gray's  most  important  poems  are  the 
"Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard"  and  "The  Bard."  The 
"Elegy"  is  perhaps  the  most  widely  known  and  loved  of- 
English  poems.  A  large  part  of  its  charm  comes  from  the 
poet's  personal,  sensitive  approach  to  his  subject.  He  lin- 
gers in  the  churchyard,  noting  the  signs  of  approaching 
nightfall,  until  the  atmosphere  of  twilight  musing  is  estab- 
lished, after  which  his  reflections  upon  life  and  death  have  a 
tone  of  sad  and  intimate  sincerity.  In  its  recognition  of  the 
dignity  of  simple  lives  lived  close  to  the  soil,  and  in  its  sym- 
pathy with  their  fate,  the  "  Elegy  "  shows  the  breaking- up  of 
the  hard  forms  into  which  social  feeling  had  stiffened,  and 
looks  forward  to  the  enthusiasm  for  humanity  which  marked 
the  later  phases  of  romantic  poetry.  "The  Bard"  is  more 
distinctly  romantic,  both  in  subject  and  treatment.  An 
ancient  minstrel,  the  last  of  the  Welsh  singers,  escaped  from 
Edward's  massacre,  stops  the  king  in  a  wild  mountain  pass, 
and  prophesies  the  terrors  which  are  to  gather  over  his  de- 
scendants. This  poem,  with  its  imaginative  rekindling  of 
the  passion  of  an  ancient  and  perished  people,  shows  that 
re-awakened  interest  in  the  Middle  Ages  which  soon  became 
the  leading  feature  of  romantic  art. 


228  Revival  of  Romanticism 

Percy's  Reliques. — In  1765  Bishop  Percy,  an  antiquarian 
scholar  with  literary  tastes,  published  a  ballad  collection 
entitled  Reliques  0}  Ancient  Poetry.  These  old  ballads* 
which  spoke  in  tones  of  primitive  freshness  and  passion  out 
of  the  distant  past,  had  a  great  effect  in  quickening  the  ro- 
mantic impulse.  Long  afterward,  Wordsworth  said  of  these 
ballads  that  they  had  led  English  poetry  back  to  the  truth 
from  which  it  had  wandered. 

"Ossian" :  Chatterton's  Imitations. — About  the  same  time 
appeared  an  epic  poem  in  irregular  chanting  prose,  entitled 
Fingal,  purporting  to  have  been  originally  written  in  the 
ancient  Gaelic  tongue  of  the  Scotch  highlands,  by  Ossian,  the 
son  of  Fingal,  in  a  dim  heroic  past.  It  seems  to  have  been 
in  large  part  a  clever  literary  forgery,  the  work  of  a  young 
Scotchman  named  Macpherson,  but  its  influence  was  enor- 
mous in  furthering  the  new  taste  for  the  mysterious  past. 

Of  a  similar  nature  were  the  series  of  literary  forgeries 
put  forth  by  Thomas  Chatterton  (17  5  2-1 7  70).  These  con- 
sisted of  poems  and  prose  pieces  in  the  mediaeval  style  and 
diction,  which  he  palmed  off  upon  the  good  burghers  of 
Bristol  as  originals  which  he  had  unearthed  in  the  ancient 
coffers  of  their  church.  Chatterton  ended  his  morbid  and 
amazingly  precocious  life  by  suicide  in  a  London  garret,  at 
the  age  of  nineteen.  When  the  battle  of  the  new  poetry 
had  been  fought  and  won,  Keats  dedicated  Endymion  to  his 
memory,  and  Shelley  placed  him  in  "Adonais"  among  the 
"  inheritors  of  unfulfilled  renown." 

Cowper:  "The  Task." — William  Cowper  (1731-1800), 
though  he  was  not  conscious  of  being  an  innovator,  marks 
the  advent  of  a  new  realism  in  the  poetic  treatment  of  nature 
and  human  life.  His  early  life  was  spent  at  Westminster 
School,  and  as  a  law-student  in  London.  Fits  of  gayety, 
and  states  of  mystical  exaltation,  were  succeeded  in  him  by 
periods  of  terrible  depression.  At  the  age  of  fifty-two,  he  was 
living  in  the  obscure  village  of  Olney,  where,  under  the  care 
of  a  widow,  Mrs.  Unwin,  several  years  his  senior,  he  was 
spending  a  peaceful  interval  between  two  attacks  of  religious 
melancholia.  At  the  suggestion  of  one  Lady  Austin,  he 
began  a  long  poem  in  blank  verse,  in  which  he  described 


Cowper  and  Blake  229 

the  landscapes,  the  changes  of  seasons,  the  human  types 
and  employments  of  the  rural  world  about  him,  as  well 
as  his  own  simple  pleasures  and  occupations.  The  poem 
was  published  in  1785,  as  The  Task.  A  large  portion  of  The 
Task  is  conventional  enough,  but  here  and  there  one  comes 
upon  little  vignettes, — the  figure  of  a  teamster  driving  home- 
ward in  a  snowstorm,  a  postman  hurrying  through  the  village 
with  his  eagerly  awaited  bag  of  news  from  the  great  world, 
ploughmen  at  work  in  the  flat  fields  by  the  river  Ouse, — which 
are  instinct  with  vivid  natural  life.  The  amusing  ballad  of 
"  John  Gilpin"  also  belongs  to  this  bright  period  of  Cowper's 
life.  He  afterward  relapsed  into  melancholia,  broken  at  inter- 
vals by  a  ray  of  poetic  inspiration  such  as  produced  his  touch- 
ing lines,  "  On  the  Receipt  of  my  Mother's  Picture  out  of  Nor- 
folk," deservedly  the  best  known  of  his  poems.  His  last 
poem,  entitled  "The  Castaway,"  is  a  cry  of  despair  from  the 
depths  of  visionary  anguish  into  which  he  was  now  hope- 
lessly plunged. 

Blake. — William  Blake  (17 5 7-1 82 7),  was  by  profession  an 
engraver,  and  the  most  important  part  of  his  work  is  his 
drawings,  many  of  which  are  in  illustration  of  his  own 
poems  and  the  strange  mystic  writings  which  he  called 
"prophecies."  When  a  very  young  child,  he  one  day 
screamed  with  fear,  because,  he  said,  he  had  seen  God  put 
his  face  to  the  window.  In  boyhood  he  saw  several  angels, 
very  bright,  standing  in  a  tree  by  the  roadside.  In  his  man- 
hood, the  earth  and  the  air  were  for  him  full  of  spiritual 
presences,  all  concerned  with  his  fate  or  with  that  of  his 
friends.  He  saw  everywhere  about  him  "armies  of  angels 
that  soar,  legions  of  demons  that  lurk."  His  fame  as  a  poet 
rests  chiefly  on  his  Poetical  Sketches,  and  on  his  Songs  0} 
Innocence  and  Experience.  Amid  much  that  is  unfinished, 
and  no  little  that  is  obscure,  these  little  volumes  contain  some 
of  the  simplest  and  sweetest,  as  well  as  some  of  the  most  power- 
ful, short  poems  in  the  language.  At  his  best,  as  in  "The 
Tiger,"  and  "  Hear  the  Voice  of  the  Bard, "  Blake  has  a  sim- 
plicity as  great  as  Wordsworth's,  and  a  magic  which  reminds 
us  of  Coleridge,  together  with  a  startling  depth  and  intensity. 
Like  a  true  mystic,  he  moves  us  less  by  what  he  says  than  by 


230  Revival  of  Romanticism 

what  he  hints,  and  these  hints  are  often  so  shadowy  that 
they  elude  us  at  the  very  moment  when  we  seem  about  to 
grasp  them. 

III.   ROBERT  BURNS    (1759-1796) 

Burns's  Early  Life  and  Poetry. — Robert  Burns  was  born  in 
a  two-roomed  clay  cottage  in  Ayrshire,  West  Scotland,  in 
1759.  His  parents  were  God-fearing  peasants  of  the  best 
Scotch  type,  who  worked  heroically  to  keep  the  wolf  from 
the  door,  and  to  give  their  children  an  elementary  educa- 
tion. There  have  been  preserved  to  us  many  glimpses  of  the 
family  life  which  Burns  shared,  and  all  of  them  show  us  how 
earnest  and  wholesome  was  its  atmosphere.  The  father, 
as  he  walked  to  the  morning's  labor  with  his  sons  Robert  and 
Gilbert,  would  talk  to  them  as  man  to  man,  drawing  their 
thoughts  to  serious  themes  of  conduct  and  belief;  and  he 
would  often  visit  his  daughter,  where  she  tended  the  flock 
afield,  to  teach  her  the  names  of  the  plants  and  herbs  which 
grew  about.  The  local  schoolmaster  brought  books  to  the 
family  and  read  to  them  regularly.  Once,  when  he  was  read- 
ing from  Shakespeare's  Titus  Andronicus,  and  had  reached  a 
particularly  harrowing  passage,  with  one  voice  they  cried  out 
for  him  to  desist,  as  they  could  not  endure  the  cruelty  of  the 
pictures  which  the  drama  evoked.  In  all  this  we  see  that 
Burns's  early  life,  though  full  of  privation  and  harsh  toil,  was 
passed  among  gentle  influences. 

The  privation,  however,  was  severe,  and  the  toil  bitter. 
At  fifteen  Robert  did  a  grown  man's  work  in  ploughing  and 
reaping.  The  various  farms  which  the  elder  Burns  leased  in 
succession,  proved  too  poor  to  repay  the  labor  put  upon  them. 
In  spite  of  all  frugality  and  industry,  ruin  was  seldom  far 
away.  Looking  back  upon  his  youth  in  after  years,  Burns 
described  it  as  the  "cheerless  gloom  of  a  hermit,  with  the 
unceasing  toil  of  a  galley-slave."  But  this  is  clearly  an  ex- 
aggeration, for  we  have  his  youthful  poems  to  prove  him 
wrong. 

He  had  had  a  few  books  of  poetry  to  read,  and  had  heard, 
?s  every  Scotch  peasant  hears,  the  floating  ballad  verse  of 


Photograph,  Copyright,  by  Frederick  Hollyer,  London 

ROBERT  BURNS 
From  a  painting  by  Nasmytb 


232  Revival  of  Romanticism 

the  country-side.  Then  he  had  begun  to  rhyme,  almost  as" 
spontaneously  as  a  bird  begins  to  sing,  or,  as  he  says  himself, 
"for  fun,"  as  he  followed  his  plough  "in  glory  and  in  joy, 
along  the  mountain-side."  The  youth  who  wrote  the  lines 
"To  a  Mountain  Daisy"  and  "To  a  Mouse,"  with  their 
searching  sympathy,  the  "  Epistle  to  Davie,"  with  its  manly 
philosophy  and  genial  temper,  the  "Address  to  the  De'il," 
with  its  rich  humor  and  fun,  "The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night," 
bathed  in  its  tender  light  of  fireside  happiness, — was  neither 
a  hermit  nor  a  galley-slave,  but  simply  a  healthy,  impetuous 
farm-lad,  with  a  warm  heart,  a  rich  nature,  and  a  God-given 
genius  for  song. 

Between  his  twenty-third  and  his  twenty-sixth  year,  at 
Mossgiel,  Burns  wrote  the  larger  number  of  those  poems 
which  have  made  his  name  loved  wherever  the  lowland  dia- 
lect is  understood.  In  these  he  revealed  with  wonderful  com- 
pleteness the  rural  Scotland  of  his  day.  He  illuminated  with  a 
blended  light  of  humor  and  tenderness  the  common  experi- 
ences of  his  peasant  world.  He  celebrates  "  Scotch  Drink," 
holds  up  to  laughter  the  praying  hypocrite  "Holy  Willie," 
and  paints  the  riotous  games  of  Hallowe'en ;  but  he  turns  also 
to  mourn  over  the  "wee,  modest,  crimson-tipped  flower" 
uprooted  in  the  furrow  on  the  mountain-side,  and  finds  in 
a  field-mouse  whose  snug  home  has  been  broken  up  by  the 
ploughshare,  a  thing  to  touch  the  springs  of  human  pity. 

Burns's  temporary  residence  at  Irvine,  whither  he  went  in 
1782,  with  the  plan  of  learning  the  flax-dressing  industry, 
marks  a  great  change  in  his  life,  and  the  beginning  of  those 
dissipations  into  which  his  eager  and  abounding  temperament 
only  too  easily  led  him.  Here  and  at  his  home-village  of 
Mauchline  his  reputation  as  poet  and  wit  threw  him  into 
the  company  of  "buckish  young  squires,  roaring  lawyers 
and  half-heretical  divines,"  who  welcomed  him  as  a  brilliant 
addition  to  their  circle,  and  spurred  him  on  to  wild  extrava- 
gances of  word  and  deed.  His  was  a  nature  which  loves 
to  shine,  to  which  the  exercise  of  its  charm  and  power 
is  a  necessity.  Even  in  his  sober  earlier  years  he  had  "  worn 
his  plaid  in  a  particular  manner,  and  of  a  particular  color," 
and  had  had  "the  only  tied  hair  in  the  parish."    Now  he 


Robert  Burns  233 

threw  himself  headlong  into  pleasure ;  it  was  not  long  before 
he  had  earned  his  title  of  "Ranting  Rob." 
Publication  of  the  "Poems":  Burns  in  Edinburgh. — By 

the  time  he  reached  his  twenty-sixth  year,  his  wild  ways  had 
got  him  into  desperate  trouble.  His  father  was  dead,  and 
the  hand-to-hand  fight  which  he  and  his  brother  Gilbert  were 
waging  with  poverty,  bade  fair  to  end  in  absolute  failure. 
Distracted  and  despairing,  Burns  determined  to  go  to  the 
West  Indies.  In  order  to  raise  the  passage  money,  someone 
suggested  that  he  should  publish  the  poems  which  lay  in  his 
desk  in  the  cottage  at  Mossgiel.  Neither  the  author  nor 
anyone  else  hoped  for  more  than  a  local  popularity.  The 
little  book  was  published  at  Kilmarnock  in  1786,  with  the 
title,  Poems,  Chiefly  in  the  Scottish  Dialect.  The  few  pounds 
brought  in  by  the  small  edition  were  in  his  pocket,  his  trunk 
was  sent  forward,  and  he  had  written  the  solemn  and  moving 
song,  "The  Gloomy  Night  is  Gathering  Fast,"  as  his  farewell 
word,  when  a  letter  from  Edinburgh  arrived  which  changed 
the  whole  face  of  his  fortunes.  It  was  from  an  eminent 
scholar  and  critic,  who  praised  the  book  highly  and  called  for 
another  and  larger  edition.  Burns  posted  to  Edinburgh, 
heralded  and  feted  on  the  way  like  a  hero  of  romance.  A 
winter  in  the  Scotch  capital  followed,  during  which  he  was 
petted  and  lionized  by  the  brilliant  society  gathered  there. 
Learned  doctors,  famous  critics  and  men  of  letters,  not  to 
speak  of  "Duchess  Gordon  and  all  the  gay  world,"  were 
eager  to  flatter  and  amuse  the  "ploughman  poet."  In  this 
sudden  revolution  of  his  fortunes,  his  powerful  sense  and  his 
native  dignity  never  deserted  him.  His  head  was  not  turned ; 
he  refused  to  be  anything  but  himself.  Walter  Scott,  then  a 
young  boy,  on  one  occasion  saw  Burns  at  close  range  in  an 
Edinburgh  drawing-room,  and  has  left  a  charming  descrip- 
tion of  him  as  he  looked  at  this  time — the  burly  figure  in 
boots  and  buckskins,  blue  coat  and  buff-striped  waistcoat, 
"like  a  farmer  in  his  Sunday  best,"  the  large  head  with  its 
air  of  thoughtful  melancholy,  the  great  dark  eyes  which 
t:iiterally  glowed"  as  he  spoke.  *'I  never  saw  such  another 
eve  in  a  human  head,"  Scott  adds,  "though  I  have  seen  the 
most  distinguished  men  of  my  time." 


284  Revival  of  Romanticism 

Buras's  Later  Life :  His  Songs. — Burns  left  Edinburgh  after 
a  second  winter,  somewhat  richer  in  money  and  prospects, 
but  with  his  energy  relaxed.  The  flattery  of  the  great  had  not 
turned  his  head,  but  the  dissipations  of  the  capital  and  the 
long  period  of  idleness  had  weakened  his  purpose.  *  Never- 
theless he  made  a  strong  effort  to  recover  the  lost  ground. 
He  returned  to  Ayrshire  with  an  appointment  as  "gauger" 
(inspector  of  the  liquor  customs)  in  his  pocket,  married  Jean 
Armour,  and  took  a  farm  at  Ellisland,  with  the  design  of  com- 
bining farming  and  revenue  service.  His  duties  covered 
ten  parishes  and  compelled  him  to  ride  two  hundred  miles  a 
week.  What  was  worse,  they  threw  him  constantly  into 
riotous  company,  where  his  wit  and  eloquence  were  always 
in  uproarious  demand.  His  farm  naturally  went  to  ruin, 
and  he  found  time  for  little  poetry  except  short  snatches  of 
song.  With  the  exception  of  the  "Jolly  Beggars"  and  "Tarn 
O'Shanter,"  Burns  did  no  more  sustained  work.  But  he 
poured  out  in  recompense  hundreds  of  songs — love-songs, 
drinking  songs,  songs  of  patriotism,  many  of  which  are  among 
the  eternal  possessions  of  the  race.  They  have  given  Burns 
rank  as  the  first  of  English  song-writers.  Their  range  is  as 
wonderful  as  their  quality.  "  From  the  loud  flowing  revel  in 
'Willie  Brewed  a  Peck  o'  Maut,'  to  the  still  rapt  enthusiasm 
of  sadness  for '  Mary  in  Heaven ' ;  from  the  glad  kind  greeting 
of  'Auld  Lang  Syne,'  or  the  comic  archness  of  'Duncan 
Gray,'  to  the  fire-eyed  fury  of  '  Scots  Wha  Hae  Wi'  Wallace 
Bled,'  he  has  found  a  tone  and  words  for  every  mood  of  man's 
heart."  *  Although  pressed  for  money,  he  refused  to  accept 
any  pay  for  these  songs.  In  the  fast-gathering  ruin  of  his  life, 
he  wished  to  dedicate  this  its  noblest  part  to  Scotland,  and 
would  take  no  wage  for  that  which  was  indeed  above  all  price. 

Sincerity  and  Vividness  of  Burns 's  Work. — The  quality  of 
Burns's  poetry  which  first  arrests  a  reader's  interest,  and 
which  makes  perhaps  the  most  lasting  impression,  is  its 
sincerity.  In  his  English  verse,  to  be  sure,  he  often  expresses 
himself  in  the  stilted  manner  which  was  then  fashionable. 
Even  "The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night"  is  hurt  by  passages 
where  Burns  deserts  the  Scotch  dialect  for  conventional 

*  Carlyle  :  Essay  on  Burns. 


Robert  Burns  235 

English  speech.  But  it  is  not  in  his  English  verse  that  we 
find  the  real  Burns.  Everything  that  he  wrote  in  his  native 
dialect  has  the  ring  of  absolute  honesty.  He  expresses  the 
truth  of  life  as  it  appears  to  him,  with  penetrating  frankness. 
His  words  have  an  indescribable  intonation  of  heartiness, 
of  careless  conviction.  His  lyric  strain  has  a  curious  arresting 
power,  like  that  of  certain  human  voices  in  whose  tones  there 
seems  to  vibrate  an  inner  assurance  of  truth,  though  the 
words  themselves  are  lightly,  perhaps  mockingly,  spoken. 

Allied  to  this  sincerity,  but  more  external  and  easier  to 
lay  hold  of,  is  the  vividness  of  Burns's  speech.  In  "The 
Twa  Dogs"  he  not  only  gives  us  with  a  few  airy  touches  a 
lively  likeness  of  the  Scotch  collie  Luath  and  the  squire's  St. 
Bernard,  but  fixes,  as  it  were,  the  universal  traits  of  doghood. 
In  "The  Holy  Fair"  there  are  scores  of  groups  and  single 
figures,  touched  in  with  marvellous  lightness  and  rapidity,  but 
as  vivid  as  if  bitten  with  aqua-fortis  upon  an  etcher's  plate. 
The  infernal  dance  which  Tarn  o'Shanter  views  in  the  ruined 
kirk,  and  his  flight  from  the  witches,  show  the  same  graphic 
power  employed  in  portraying  scenes  of  wild  action. .  In 
"The  Brigs  of  Ayr"  and  a  score  of  other  poems,  it  is  mani- 
fested in  the  description  of  natural  scenes.  And  where  not 
an  image  but  a  feeling  is  to  be  evoked,  Burns  has  the  same 
energy  of  utterance.  His  words  "go  home"  with  an  in- 
evitable force  and  directness. 

Burns's  Sympathy  and  Humor. — But  it  is  neither  his 
energy  nor  his  sincerity  which  has  made  Burns  the  most 
widely  beloved  of  English  poets.  It  is  rather  his  sym- 
pathy, the  bright,  warm  geniality  of  nature  which  prompted 
him  not  only  to  accept  everything  human  in  the  world  of 
men  about  him,  but  to  draw  the  life  of  beast  and  bird  and 
flower  into  the  circle  of  his  humor  and  tenderness.  For 
humor  pervades  his  poetry,  keeping  it  fresh  and  tonic  and 
free  from  sentimentality.  In  "The  Holy  Fair"  Burns  tells 
us  how  he  once  met  Fun  come  "skelpin'  up  the  way,"  gay 
in  her  Sunday  best.    She  came  toward  him 

"lap,  skip,  and  loup, 
As  light  as  onie  lambie, 
And  wi'  a  curchie  low  did  stoop," 


236  Revival  of  Romanticism 

offering  to  go  with  him  to  the  fair,  and  promising  him  some 
"famous  laughin'."  She  went  with  him,  indeed,  through 
life,  even  to  the  dark  end ;  but  the  laughter  which  she  brought 
him  was  never  harsh  or  bitter;  it  was  always  generous  and 
gay  and  kindly. 

Burns  and  the  Romantic  Revival. — In  Burns,  the  eight- 
eenth century  had  at  last  produced  a  man  able  to  deliver 
literature  from  the  bonds  of  convention.  His  vindication  of 
the  natural  life,  the  natural  instincts,  humors,  and  affections, 
made  untenable  the  narrow  fortress  of  eighteenth-century  taste. 
His  glowing  democracy  of  heart,  which  reached  out  to  include 
in  fellowship  not  only  the  least  well-seen  among  men,  but 
even  the  beasts  of  the  field  and  birds  of  the  air,  robbed  the 
aristocratic  eighteenth- century  ideal  of  its  attraction.  After 
Burns,  the  triumph  of  "romantic  liberty,"  through  the  length 
and  breadth  of  English  letters,  could  not  be  long  delayed. 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— It  is  important  to  note  that  the  literary 
movement  traced  in  this  chapter  was,  as  the  title  of  the  chapter 
indicates,  a  "  revival."  Romanticism,  in  the  broad  sense,  was  no 
new  thing  in  English  literature.  "Beowulf"  is  "romantic";  so  is  the 
work  of  Chaucer,  of  Spenser,  of  Marlowe,  and  of  Shakespeare;  so  is 
"  Pilgrim's  Progress  " ;  so,  in  almost  all  respects,  are  "  Comus,''  and 
*'  Paradise  Lost,"  and  even  where  Milton  adopted  "  classical  "  standards 
he  did  so  in  a  far  freer  way  than  did  Dryden  or  Pope.  The  Romantic 
revival,  therefore,  is  to  be  thought  of  as  a  return  to  the  freedom  which 
the  great  writers  of  earlier  times  had  enjoyed.  But  the  tyranny  of 
the  classical  school  was  so  excessive  that  the  return  to  freer  ways  of 
thought,  feeling,  and  speech  took  on  the  aspect  of  a  conscious  revolt. 
It  became,  toward  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  a  kind  of  crusade, 
and'  poets  fought  for  it  as  for  a  holy  cause.  It  went  hand  in  hand 
with  a  great  religious  revival  under  John  Wesley,  and  with  a  great 
struggle  for  social  and  political  freedom  in  France;  and  this  gave  to 
the  literary  movement  extraordinary  depth  and  intensity. 

To  what  earlier  poets  did  the  pioneers  of  the  Romantic  revival 
especially  turn  back?  To  what  was  due  the  renewed  interest  in  the 
Middle  Ages?  In  natural  scenery?  In  strange  lands  and  distant 
peoples?  In  the  life  of  humble  men?  What  parallelism  is  noted 
here  between  this  period  and  that  of  the  Renaissance  ?    In  what 


Review  Outline  237 

respects  does  the  spirit  that  underlay  this  reaction  indicate  that  the 
period  between  the  sixteenth  and  the  eighteenth  centuries  had  been 
one  of  progress  ? 

Note  the  statement  that  for  two  generations  the  first-hand  study 
of  nature  had  been  neglected.  In  what  poem  did  it  first  reappear? 
To  what  earlier  poet  did  Thomson  recur  in  his  "  Castle  of  Indolence  "  ? 
Who  is  the  most  important  poet  of  the  new  school  among  the  writers  of 
this  period  ?  Consider  carefully  what  is  said  about  his  "  seeing  nature 
with  a  modern  eye,  as  a  living  thing  full  of  sentiment  and  meaning." 
Find  something  to  illustrate  this  from  the  quotations  given  from  Gray's 
prose.  For  which  of  these  aspects  of  the  spirit  of  the  Romantic  revival 
is  Gray's  "  Elegy"  best  known  ?  For  which  "  The  Bard "  ?  What  is 
"  Percy's  Reliques  "  ?  At  what  period  were  the  most  important  of  the 
early  English  ballads  produced  ?  (See  Chap.  IV.)  In  what  esteem  did 
Wordsworth  hold  these  ballads  ?  What  was  the  current  literary  interest 
that  inspired  McPherson  and  Chatterton  to  make  their  famous  literary 
imitations?  What  evidence  is  there  from  the  opinions  of  other  poets  that 
Chatterton's  gifts  as  a  poet  would  have  entitled  him  to  high  rank  if  he 
had  lived  ?  What  is  Cowper's  most  famous  poem  ?  Which  of  the 
interests  of  the  Romantic  revival  does  he  show  in  "  The  Task  "  ?  What 
is  the  special  character  of  the  genius  of  William  Blake  ? 

Among  what  conditions  did  Burns  pass  his  early  life?  What  influence 
did  his  father  exert  on  him  ?  What  did  Burns  say  of  the  character  of 
this  portion  of  his  life  ?  What  evidence  of  its  influence  on  him  is  to  be 
gathered  from  his  poems  ?  At  what  time  of  his  life  did  he  do  his  best 
writing?  What  effect  did  his  residence  at  Irvine  have  on  his  mind  and 
character?  For  what  purpose  was  Burns's  first  book  of  poems  published? 
What  was  the  immediate  consequence  of  the  publication  of  this  vol- 
ume ?  How  did  the  life  at  Edinburgh  affect  Burns  ?  What  effects  did 
this  experience  have  on  his  after  life  ?  What  portion  of  his  literary 
work  was  done  after  his  final  retreat  from  Edinburgh?  Find  from 
your  own  reading  illustrations  of  the  qualities  of  Burns's  poetry 
spoken  of  in  the  text. 

READING  GUIDE. — The  reading  prescribed  for  the  class  upon 
this  period  will  naturally  be  devoted  chiefly  to  Gray  and  Burns.  Gray's 
"Elegy"  and  "Bard"  should  be  read  by  all.  The  following  poems 
of  Burns  are  recommended:  "The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,"  "Tam 
o'Shanter,"  "Address  to  the  Unco  Guid,"  "The  Twa  Dogs,"  "To  a 


238  Revival  of  Romanticism 

Mountain  Daisy,"  "To  a  Mouse,"  "Is  There  for  Honest  Poverty"? 
"John  Anderson,"  "To  Mary  in  Heaven,"  "Of  a'  the  Airts,"  "A 
Red,  Red  Rose,"  "Bonnie  Doon,"  and  "Scots  Wha  Hae  Wi'  Wallace 
Bled."  A  convenient  edition  of  Gray  is  that  edited  by  W.  L.  Phelps, 
in  the  Athenaeum  Press  series  (Ginn).  Selections  from  Cowper  and) 
Gray  are  given  in  the  Riverside  Literature  series  ;  Cowper's  "Task" 
and  other  poems  are  included  in  Cassell's  National  Library.  Lowell'* 
essay  upon  Gray  in  "  Latest  Literary  Essays,"  and  Matthew  Arnold'? 
essay  in  "  Essays  in  Criticism,"  are  valuable.  The  life  of  Gray,  by 
Edmund  Gosse,  in  the  English  Men  of  Letters  series,  is  entertaining 
The  Riverside  Literature  series  (Houghton,  Mifflin),  includes  a  vol- 
ume of  selections  from  Burns  with  glossary  of  Scotch  words.  Car- 
lyle's  essay  on  Burns  is  not  only  invaluable  as  a  commentary,  but 
is  itself  a  classic  in  the  literature  of  the  essay.  R.  L.  Stevenson7? 
"  Familiar  Studies  of  Men  and  Books "  contains  an  excellent  study 
of  Burns's  character,  which  may  be  supplemented  by  the  widely  dif- 
ferent view  taken  by  W.  E.  Henley,  in  the  biography  prefixed  to  tX 
Cambridge  edition  of  Burns  (Houghton,  Mifflin). 


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CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  NINETEENTH   CENTURY:  THE  ROMANTIC 
TRIUMPH 

I.   INTRODUCTION 

The    Revolutionary  Era:  the   First    Group   of  Poets. — 

Toward  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  there  occurred  two 
events  of  world-wide  consequence,  long  prepared  for  by  cir- 
cumstances but  only  vaguely  foreseen ;  America  threw  off  her 
political  bondage  to  England,  and  the  French  people,  in  the 
name  of  freedom  and  universal  brotherhood,  rose  up  to 
destroy  the  old  fabric  of  the  state,  founded  upon  privilege 
and  caste.  In  1776  the  Declaration  of  Independence  was 
signed  at  Philadelphia ;  in  1789  the  Bastille,  the  famous  French 
prison  which  stood  as  a  symbol  of  tyranny  and  oppression,  was 
levelled  by  the  revolutionists.  The  American  revolution, 
though  destined  to  have  an  incalculable  effect  upon  the  world's 
progress,  was  of  far  less  immediate  moment  than  the  French 
revolution.  This  terrible  upheaval  affected  the  whole  of  Eu- 
rope. It  brought  in  its  train  a  series  of  bloody  wars,  in  the 
course  of  which  the  map  of  the  continent  was  remade,  and 
both  government  and  the  social  spirit  were  everywhere  pro- 
foundly changed.  In  England  alone,  by  reason  of  her  detached 
position,  the  fabric  of  government  stood  firm.  England's  task, 
politically,  was  a  repressive  one.  She  took  it  upon  herself  to 
hold  in  check  the  powers  which  were  making  for  violent 
change,  especially  when  the  bright  dreams  of  the  early  revolu- 
tion gave  place,  during  the  Reign  of  Terror,  to  an  unbridled 
frenzy  of  destruction,  and  later  to  the  gigantic  military  am- 
bitions of  Napoleon.  It  was  English  diplomacy,  English 
gold,  and  English  arms  which  held  back  the  tide  of  Napoleonic 
conquest,  and  finally  sealed  Napoleon's  fate  at  Waterloo 
(1815).     But  while  the  British  government,  under  the  guid- 

241 


242  The  Nineteenth  Century 

ance  of  Pitt  and  the  inspiration  of  Burke,  was  hostile  to  the 
revolution,  the  French  cry  of  "Liberty,  Equality,  Fraternity" 
found  an  echo  in  thousands  of  English  hearts.  Burns  lived 
long  enough  to  greet  the  dawn  of  the  revolutionary  struggle, 
and  to  become  actively  involved  in  sympathy  with  the  cause 
to  such  a  degree  as  to  draw  official  reproof  upon  his  head. 
Of  the  three  great  literary  figures  of  the  next  generation, 
Wordsworth,  Coleridge  and  Scott,  the  first  two  were,  during 
their  young  manhood,  ardent  champions  of  the  doctrines  of 
the  revolution.  Wordsworth  especially  watched  with  en- 
thusiastic hope  the  early  stages  of  the  great  drama  which  was 
being  played  in  France,  and  he  came  near  to  throwing  him- 
self personally  into  the  struggle,  in  the  year  preceding  the 
Reign  of  Terror.  "Bliss  was  it  in  that  dawn  to  be  alive," 
he  writes,  "and  to  be  young  was  very  heaven."  When  the 
fair  dawn  had  given  place  to  a  noon  blood-red  with  violence 
and  crime,  and  later,  when  the  sun  of  liberty  seemed  to  have 
set  forever  in  the  barren  military  rule  of  Napoleon,  Words- 
worth passed  through  a  period  of  gloom  and  despondency, 
from  which  he  emerged  as  a  conservative  of  the  school  of 
Burke. 

The  Second  Group  of  Poets. — This  reaction  toward  con- 
servatism was  shared  by  almost  all  the  men  of  the  generation 
of  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  and  Scott.  But  the  next  genera- 
tion contained  a  group  of  poets  who  were  destined  to  take 
up  the  torch  of  revolutionary  doctrine,  after  the  actual  Revo- 
lution as  a  political  fact  had  failed.  Byron,  born  1788,  was 
only  a  year  old  when  the  Bastille  fell,  Shelley  was  born 
in  1792,  the  year  before  the  Reign  of  Terror,  and  Keats  two 
years  after  it  (1795).  Of  these  three,  Keats  stands  apart 
from  the  political  agitation  of  the  time,  but  Byron  and  Shel- 
ley were  passionate  revolutionists,  who  spent  their  lives  in 
storming  the  citadels  of  ancient  prejudice,  and  attempting 
to  plant  upon  stronghold  after  stronghold  of  tyranny,  bigotry, 
and  blind  custom,  the  flag  of  the  new  thought.  Though 
dead  as  a  political  experiment,  the  revolution  lived  on  in 
them,  as  an  inspiration  and  a  beckoning  light ;  nor  has  it  ever 
ceased  so  to  live,  from  then  until  now,  though  taking  on  new 
forms  and  expressing  itself  in  new  ways. 


Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  243 


II.    SAMUEL   TAYLOR   COLERIDGE    (i  7  7  2-1 834) 

Coleridge's  Early  Life. — Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  was  born 
in  1772,  at  Ottery  St.  Mary,  a  Devonshire  village.  His 
father  was  an  eccentric  and  unworldly  country  parson.  Of 
Coleridge's  childhood  we  have  some  vivid  glimpses,  one  in 
particular  which  shows  him  "slashing  with  a  stick  at  rows 
of  nettles  representing  the  Seven  Champions  of  Christen- 
dom." He  tells  us  that  he  "never  thought  or  spoke  as  a 
child,"  and  his  precocity  made  him  solitary  in  the  midst  of 
his  boisterous  brothers.  At  nine  he  became  a  "blue-coat 
boy"  at  Christ's  Hospital,  an  ancient  charity  school  in  the 
heart  of  London.  One  of  his  fellow-pupils  was  Charles 
Lamb,  who  has  left  us  a  picture  of  the  school  and  of  Cole- 
ridge, in  his  essay  "  Christ's  Hospital  Five  and  Thirty  Years 
Ago."  Lamb  tells  us  that  casual  visitors  in  the  halls  of  the 
school  would  stop  spell-bound  to  listen  while  Coleridge 
talked  or  recited  Greek  hexameters,  and  "the  walls  of  old 
Greyfriars  re-echoed  the  accents  of  the  inspired  charity 
boy."  At  nineteen  he  entered  Cambridge.  With  his  friend 
Robert  Southey,  then  a  student  at  Oxford,  he  took  an  excited 
share  in  the  enthusiasm  for  social  progress  which  the  French 
Revolution  had  kindled.  Before  long,  anxiety  over  some 
college  debts  drove  him  to  London,  where  he  enlisted  as  a 
cavalry  soldier,  and  spent  two  wretched  months  in  barracks. 
Fortunately,  he  was  a  favorite  with  his  mess-mates,  who 
groomed  and  saddled  his  horse  in  return  for  the  charming 
letters  which  he  wrote  home  for  them.  A  Latin  lament 
scribbled  under  his  saddle-peg  by  "Private  Cumberback" 
(as  he  signed  himself  in  humorous  allusion  to  his  poor  horse- 
manship) gained  him  his  release.  The  incident  shows  his 
impulsiveness  and  human  charm,  as  well  as  the  weakness  of 
will  which  was  to  be  so  fatal  to  him. 

After  leaving  college,  Coleridge  and  Southey  evolved  a 
radiant  scheme  for  establishing  a  Utopian  community  across 
the  ocean,  on  the  banks  of  the  Susquehanna.  There,  in  a 
virgin  Paradise,  they  and  their  fellow  colonists  were  to  spend 
the  few  hours  of  daily  toil  necessary  to  make  the  wilderness 


244  The  Nineteenth  Century 

bloom  as  a  rose,  and  to  devote  the  rest  of  their  time  to  higher 
things.  Southey,  whose  nature  was  at  bottom  very  prac- 
tical, soon  abandoned  this  grand  scheme  of  "Pantisocracy," 
and  his  desertion  alienated  for  a  time  Coleridge's  friendship. 

In  1 795  Coleridge  married  Miss  Sarah  Fricker,  sister  of  the 
girl  who  soon  after  became  Southey's  wife.  To  support  his 
new  household  Coleridge  wrote  a  volume  of  Juvenile  Poems 
and  attempted  to  eke  out  the  few  guineas  thus  earned,  by 
preaching  and  lecturing.  To  get  subscribers  for  a  projected 
periodical,  called  "The  Watchman,"  he  made  a  tour  of  the 
Midland  counties,  preaching  on  Sundays  "as  a  tireless  vol- 
unteer in  a  blue  coat  and  white  waistcoat,"  holding  his  hear- 
ers spell-bound  with  that  marvellous  eloquence  for  which  he 
was  already  famous.  A  part  of  his  early  married  life  was 
spent  in  the  village  of  Clevedon,  in  a  little  rose-covered  cot- 
tage by  the  sea;  the  time  was  a  happy  one  for  Coleridge, 
but  an  ominous  sentence  or  two  in  his  letters  show  that  he 
had  already,  in  order  to  escape  the  pain  of  neuralgia,  begun 
the  fatal  habit  of  opium-taking. 

Friendship  of  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth ;  "  The  Ancient 
Mariner." — Early  in  1797,  Coleridge  removed,  with  his  wife 
and  baby,  to  a  tiny  cottage  in  the  village  of  Nether  Stowey,  in 
the  green  Quantock  Hills;  and  a  month  later  they  were 
joined  by  Wordsworth  and  his  sister  Dorothy,  who  took  a 
house  near  by  at  Alfoxden.  Coleridge  was  then  twenty-five, 
his  brother  poet  twenty-seven.  For  both  of  them  the  com- 
panionship was  in  the  highest  degree  stimulating.  In  little 
more  than  a  year  Coleridge  wrote  all  the  poems  which  place 
him  among  the  immortals.  This  was  the  year  of  "Gen- 
evieve," "The  Dark  Ladie,"  "  Kubla  Khan,"  "The  Ancient 
Mariner,"  and  the  first  part  of  "Christabel" — truly,  as  it  has 
been  called,  an  annus  mirabilis,  a  year  of  wonders. 

"The  Ancient  Mariner"  was  undertaken,  singular  to  say, 
as  a  mere  "pot-boiler."  Coleridge  and  the  Wordsworths 
had  in  mind  a  little  autumn  walking  tour  from  Alfoxden 
over  the  Quantock  Hills  to  Watchet.  To  defray  the  expenses 
of  the  trip,  some  five  pounds,  they  determined  to  compose 
together  a  poem  to  be  sent  to  the  New  Monthly  Magazine. 
Coleridge  suggested,  as  a  starting  point,  a  dream  which  had 


SAMUEL  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE 

From  a  painting  by  Washington  Allston 


246  The  Nineteenth  Century 

been  related  to  him  by  his  friend  Mr.  Cruikshank,  a  dream 
"  of  a  skeleton  ship,  with  figures  in  it."  To  this  Wordsworth 
added  something  he  had  just  read  in  Shelvocke's  Voyages^ 
an  account  of  the  great  albatrosses,  with  wings'  stretching 
twelve  or  thirteen  feet  from  tip  to  tip,  which  Shelvocke  had 
seen  while  doubling  Cape  Horn.  Taking  a  hint  from  the 
same  account,  he  suggested  that  a  sailor  should  kill  one  of 
these  birds,  and  that  the  guardian  spirits  of  the  region  should 
take  vengeance  on  the  murderer.  Wordsworth  also  sug- 
gested the  navigation  of  the  ship  by  the  dead  men. 

Coleridge  seized  eagerly  upon  all  these  hints,  and  began 
to  weave  them  into  unity.  The  composition  of  the  poem 
began  at  once,  the  two  poets  co-operating  line  by  line.  But 
they  had  not  progressed  far  before  their  styles  and  man- 
ners of  thought  were  seen  to  be  so  divergent  that  the  idea 
of  joint  composition  had  to  be  abandoned.  As  "The  An- 
cient Mariner"  bade  fair  to  take  on  dimensions  too  large 
to  allow  it  to  be  put  to  the  modest  use  originally  intended,  it 
was  proposed  to  make  a  little  volume  by  adding  to  it  other 
poems  which  the  friends  had  in  manuscript,  or  were  con- 
templating. In  the  course  of  the  following  year,  the  volume 
appeared,  under  the  title  Lyrical  Ballads. 

The  "Lyrical  Ballads." — The  ideal  which  underlay  this 
famous  little  volume  was  that  of  fidelity  to  nature,  and  the 
use  of  the  least  artificial  means  possible  in  reproducing 
nature.  But  nature,  rightly  conceived,  is  two-sided.  There 
is  first  the  world  of  external  fact,  the  visible  world  of  men 
and  things ;  and  there  is  further  the  inner  world  of  thought 
and  imagination.  It  was  a  part  of  the  philosophy  which 
lay  back  of  the  Romantic  movement,  that  this  inner  world 
was  just  as  "real,"  just  as  truly  existent,  and  therefore 
just  as  worthy  of  being  talked  about,  as  the  outer  one,— 
perhaps  more  so.  This  double  aspect  of  the  Romantic 
school  is  illustrated  by  the  contents  of  the  Lyrical  Ballads. 
Wordsworth  writes  in  simple  language  of  simple  incidents 
and  simple  people,  though  he  does  not  fail  to  find  a  sugges- 
tion of  strangeness  and  mystery  in  them  as  they  are  seen 
by  the  spiritual  eye  of  the  poet;  in  other  words,  he  makes 
the  usual  appear  strange  simply  by  fastening  our  gaze  in- 


Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  247 

tently  upon  it.  Coleridge  writes  of  fantastic,  supernatural 
things,  but  also  so  simply,  with  so  many  concrete  and  exact 
details,  that  the  world  of  imagination  into  which  he  leads 
us  seems  for  the  time  the  only  real  one.  The  Lyrical  Bal- 
lads, contained  four  poems  by  Coleridge,  only  a  small  por- 
tion of  the  whole;  "The  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner," 
however,  has  the  place  of  honor  at  the  beginning. 

Coleridge's  Later  Life. — The  rest  of  Coleridge's  life, 
though  he  wrote  a  good  deal  of  verse,  has  .little  importance 
in  the  history  of  poetry.  He  made  a  trip,  in  the  Wordsworths' 
company,  to  Germany,  and  there  became  absorbed  in  the 
philosophy  of  Kant.  So  far  as  his  later  life  had  any  .definite 
purpose,  it  was  spent  in  interpreting  this  philosophy  to  his 
countrymen.  He  settled  at  first  in  the  Lake  Country,  where 
he  shared  a  house  with  his  brother-in-law,  Southey.  The 
dampness  of  the  lake  climate  brought  on  his  old  neuralgic 
troubles,  and  as  an  escape  from  pain  he  resorted  again  to 
opium.  His  bondage  to  the  opium  habit,  made  his  life  a 
heartrending  succession  of  half-attempts  and  whole  failures. 
He  planned  many  books,  and  partly  executed  a  few;  but  his 
chief  influence  was  exerted  in  talk  with  his  friends,  and  with 
those  young  men  who,  as  his  reputation  for  transcendental 
wisdom  increased,  resorted  to  him  as  to  an  oracle  of  hope  and 
faith,  in  the  years  which  followed  the  failure  of  the  French 
Revolution.  In  1814  he  voluntarily  put  himself  under  the 
care  of  a  London  physician,  Dr.  Gillman.  He  lived  in  the 
doctor's  house,  at  Highgate  Hill  near  London,  from  this  time 
forth,  and  gradually  shook  himself  free  from  his  bondage 
to  the  drug  which  had  wrecked  him,  "  the  most  golden  genius 
born  in  that  age." 

Contemporary  Glimpses  of  Coleridge. — William  Hazlitt, 
the  critic  and  essayist,  who  in  his  youth  saw  and  talked  with 
Coleridge,  says,  "His  genius  had  angelic  wings,  and  fed  on 
manna.  He  talked  on  forever,  and  you  wished  him  to  talk 
on  forever.  His  thoughts  did  not  seem  to  come  with  labor 
and  effort,  but  as  if  the  wings  of  imagination  lifted  him  off  his 
feet.  His  voice  rolled  on  the  ear  like  a  pealing  organ,  and 
its  sound  alone  was  the  music  of  thought."  Of  his  appear- 
ance the  same  observer  says,  "His  forehead  was   broad 


248  The  Nineteenth  Century 

and  high,  as  if  built  of  ivory,  with  large,  projecting  eyebrows ; 
and  his  eyes  rolled  beneath  them  like  a  sea  with  darkened 
lustre."  Carlyle,  who  saw  him  in  his  later  years  at  Dr. 
Gillman's,  writes:  "Coleridge  sat  on  the  brow  of  Highgate 
Hill,  in  those  years,  looking  down  on  London  and  its  smoke- 
tumult,  like  a  sage  escaped  from  the  inanities  of  life's  battles. 
A  sublime  man,  who,  alone  in  those  dark  days,  had  saved  his 
crown  of  spiritual  manhood.  The  practical  intellects  of  the 
world  did  not  much  heed  him,  or  carelessly  reckoned  him  a 
metaphysical  dreamer.  But  to  the  rising  spirits  of  the  young 
generation,  he  had  this  dusky,  sublime  character ;  and  sat  there 
as  a  kind  of  Magus,  girt  in  mystery  and  enigma." 

Characteristics  of  Coleridge's  Poetry. — Coleridge's  poetry 
transports  us  into  a  world  of  strange  scenery  and  of  super- 
natural happenings,  illuminated  by  "a  light  that  never  was 
on  sea  or  land."  "Kubla  Khan"  paints  an  oriental  dream- 
picture,  as  splendid  and  as  impalpable  as  the  palaces  and 
plunging  rivers  and  "caverns  measureless  to  man,"  which 
we  sometimes  see  lifted  for  a  moment  out  of  a  stormy  sunset. 
"  Christabel,"  which  seems  in  its  fragmentary  form  to  have 
been  planned  as  the  story  of  a  young  girl  fallen  under  the 
spell  of  an  unearthly  demon  in  woman's  shape,  moves  in  a 
mediaeval  atmosphere  blended  of  beauty  and  horror;  a  hor- 
ror poignantly  vague,  freezing  the  heart  with  its  suggestion 
of  all  that  is  malign  and  cruel  in  the  spirit  world.  "The 
Ancient  Mariner,"  Coleridge's  one  finished  masterpiece,  stands 
alone  in  literature  for  the  completeness  with  which  it  creates 
an  illusion  of  reality  while  dealing  with  images  and  events 
manifestly  unreal.  Its  great  pictures  of  night  and  morning, 
of  arctic  and  tropic  seas;  its  melodies  of  whispering  keel 
and  rustling  sails,  and  of  dead  throats  singing  spectral  carols ; 
its  strange  music,  richer  and  more  various  even  than  that  of 
"Kubla  Khan,"  though  not  so  grand  and  spacious — these 
characteristics,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fruitful  lesson  lying  at 
its  heart,  make  "The  Ancient  Mariner"  a  poem  without  an 
equal  in  its  kind.  It  is  manifestly  a  dream,  but  a  dream 
caught  in  a  magic  mirror,  which  holds  it  spellbound  in  im- 
mortal freshness. 


William  Wordsworth  249 


III.   WILLIAM   WORDSWORTH   (1770-1850) 

Wordsworth's  Early  Years  and  Education. — William 
Wordsworth  was  born  in  1770,  at  Cockermouth,  in  Cumber- 
land, on  the  borders  of  the  Lake  region  in  which  he  was  to 
spend  the  greater  part  of  his  long  life,  and  the  scenery  of 
which  he  was  to  weave  into  all  his  poetry.  His  family  was 
of  ancient  Saxon  stock,  settled  at  Peniston  in  Yorkshire 
probably  from  before  the  Norman  Conquest.  His  mother 
died  when  the  poet  was  eight  years  old,  and  his  father 
five  years  later,  after  William  had  finished  his  early 
school-days  at  Hawkshead,  at  the  other  extremity  of  the 
Lake  country  from  his  birthplace.  After  he  had  grown  to 
manhood,  Wordsworth  wrote,  in  a  long  poem  called  The 
Prelude,  the  history  of  his  growth  and  education.  From 
this  "epic  of  a  soul's  growth,"  we  learn  the  influences  which 
moulded  his  nature,  from  the  time  of  his  earliest  conscious 
experiences  to  the  time  when  his  character  was  formed  and 
his  course  decided.  Chief  among  these  influences  were  the 
mountains,  lakes,  and  streams  in  the  midst  of  which  he  was 
born  and  reared.  His  first  recollections  were  of  the  grassy 
holms  and  rocky  falls  of  the  Derwent,  with  Mount  Skiddaw, 
"bronzed  with  deepest  radiance,"  towering  in  the  eastern 
sky.  At  Hawkshead,  the  place  of  his  schooling,  on  the  banks 
of  Esthwaite  Water,  he  led  a  life  of  open-air  adventure ;  but 
already  there  was  in  nature  more  for  him  than  for  his  com- 
panions. Setting  springs  for  woodcock  on  the  grassy  moors, 
scudding  from  snare  to  snare  in  the  night,  he  felt  himself  "a 
trouble  to  the  peace"  of  the  moon  and  stars;  and  when  he 
was  tempted  to  take  a  bird  from  another's  trap  he  heard  low 
breathings  and  ghostly  footsteps  coming  after  him  through 
the  solitary  hills.  As  he  clung  to  the  windy  face  of  a  cliff, 
to  rob  a  raven's  nest,  he  felt  himself  swing  loose  from  the 
world,  suspended  in  a  sky  which  was  "  not  a  sky  of  earth."  As 
he  rowed  upon  the  starlit  bosom  of  Esthwaite  Water,  the  huge 
peak  of  Wetherlam  seemed  to  follow  him,  and  visions  of  "un- 
known modes  of  being"  frightened  his  spirit.  As  he  "hissed 
along  the  polished  ice"  in  winter  games,  he  would  stop 


250  The  Nineteenth  Century 

suddenly,  and  feel  dizzily  the  motion  of  the  rolling  world. 
In  all  this  we  see  the  impassioned  love  of  nature,  mingled 
with  the  sense  of  some  moral  and  spiritual  life  behind  the 
face  of  things,  which  it  was  his  lifelong  task  to  interpret  in 
poetry.  These  early  days  at  Hawkshead  also  made  him  ac- 
quainted with  the  sturdy  dalesmen,  whose  simple  life,  with 
its  deep  primitive  joys  and  sorrows,  he  was  to  make  his  own. 
In  1787  he  entered  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge.  His 
college  life  meant  little  to  him,  for  his  lore  was  not  of  a  kind 
that  can  be  learned  from  books.  One  of  his  summer  vaca- 
tions he  spent  in  a  walking  trip  through  Switzerland;  an- 
other in  revisiting  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood,  taking  part  in 
country  merry-makings.  Once,  he  tells  us,  he  had  danced 
till  morning,  and  walked  home  in  a  glorious  dawn.  As  he 
walked  there  came  upon  him  for  the  first  time  the  full  sense 
of  his  mission  as  a  poet. 

"My  heart  was  full;  I  made  no  vows,  but  vows 
Were  then  made  for  me;  bond  unknown  to  me 
Was  given,  that  I  should  be,  else  sinning  greatly, 
A  dedicated  spirit." 

Wordsworth  and  the  French  Revolution. — After  gradua- 
tion he  spent  some  time  in  London.  Late  in  1791  he  went 
to  France,  intending  to  pass  the  winter  at  Orleans,  learning 
French.  France  was  then  "standing  on  the  top  of  golden 
hours" ;  the  Revolution  was  in  its  first  stage;  the  Bastille  had 
fallen,  symbol  of  all  the  tyranny  and  injustice  of  the  past, 
and  men  stood  as  in  the  dawn  of  a  new  day,  flushed  with 
visions  of  a  world  from  which  "man's  inhumanity  to  man" 
should  be  forever  banished.  Wordsworth  passed  through 
Paris,  and  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  year  at  Orleans  and 
Blois,  returning  to  Paris  late  in  1792,  when  the  excesses  of 
the  Reign  of  Terror  were  already  beginning.  During  his 
year  of  residence  in  France  Wordsworth  had  become  a  fervid 
revolutionist.  He  dimly  foresaw  the  awful  anarchy  toward 
which  France  was  drifting,  but  his  confidence  was  as  yet 
unimpaired.  He  had  wild  dreams  of  throwing  in  his  lot 
with  the  revolutionists,  and  striving  for  a  place  of  control.  His 
friends  in  England,  seeing  no  other  way  to  compel  him  to 


WILLIAM   WORDSWORTH 
From  a  painting  by  W.  Boxall 


252  The  Nineteenth  Century 

return,  took  the  prosaic  but  effectual  course  of  stopping  his 
remittances  of  money.  He  returned  to  England  at  the  close 
of  1792.  The  later  course  of  the  revolution  induced  in  him 
a  profound  despondency  and  pessimism.  During  this  crit- 
ical period,  he  says,  his  sister  Dorothy's  influence  kept  alive 
the  poet  in  him,  by  directing  his  mind  toward  the  sources  of 
permanent  strength  and  joy,  which  he  in  nature  and  in  human 
sympathy: 

"She  gave  me  eyes,  she  gave  me  ears; 
And  humble  cares,  and  delicate  fears; 
A  heart,  the  fountain  of  sweet  tears, 
And  love,  and  thought,  and  joy." 

Real  Beginning  of  Wordsworth's  Poetical  Career.— The 

residence  of  Wordsworth  and  his  sister  at  Alfoxden,  with 
Coleridge,  1 797-1 798,  marks  the  true  beginning  of  Words- 
worth's poetic  career;  for  up  to  this  time,  though  he  had 
written  much,  he  had  not  found  his  genuine  voice.  In  "We 
are  Seven,"  "Expostulation  and  Reply,"  "Lines  in  Early 
Spring,"  "Tintern  Abbey,"  and  other  pieces  written  at  this 
time,  the  true  Wordsworth  is  apparent.  During  the  winter  in 
Germany  which  followed,  he  added  to  these  pieces  some  of 
his  most  characteristic  poems,  such  as  "She  Dwelt  Among 
the  Untrodden  Ways,"  "Three  Years  She  Grew  in  Sun  and 
Shower,"  and  "The  Two  April  Mornings." 

Wordsworth  at  Grasmere  and  at  Rydal  Mount. — On  his 
return,  he  settled  with  his  sister  in  a  cottage  at  Grasmere. 
In  1802  he  married  his  cousin,  Mary  Hutchinson,  to  whom 
the  poem  beginning,  "She  Was  a  Phantom  of  Delight"  is 
addressed.  At  Grasmere,  and  afterward  at  Rydal  Mount  at 
the  other  end  of  the  lake,  he  lived  for  fifty  years  among  the 
Cumberland  dalesmen,  leading  an  existence  as  pastoral  and 
as  frugal  as  theirs,  reading  little  and  meditating  much,  looking 
with  deep,  unwearied  delight  upon  the  mountains  and  skies 
and  waters  which  had  fascinated  him  in  boyhood.  A  legacy 
of  nine  hundred  pounds  from  a  friend,  Raisley  Calvert, 
and  later  an  appointment  as  distributor  of  stamps  for  West- 
moreland, made  him  independent,  and  left  virtually  his 
whole  time  free  for  the  pursuit  of  poetry. 

Though  living  apart  from  the  world,  he  was  surrounded 


William  Wordsworth  253 

by  his  friends.  Southey  had  made  a  home  a  few  miles  over 
the  hills,  at  Keswick.  De  Quincey,  the  essayist,  took  the 
Wordsworth  cottage  at  Grasmere,  after  the  poet's  removal 
to  Rydal  Mount.  Coleridge  "came  to  and  fro  in  those 
fruitless,  unhappy  wanderings  which  consumed  a  life  that 
once  promised  to  be  so  rich  in  blessings  and  in  glory."  As 
Wordsworth's  reputation  grew,  many  pilgrims  found  their 
way  to  his  quiet  retreat.-  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  his  young 
wife  visited  him,  and  in  later  years  (1833)  Emerson  came 
from  New  England,  to  talk  with  one  of  the  five  great  men 
whom  he  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  to  see. 

The  heights  of  his  poetic  achievement  are  marked  succes- 
sively by  such  pieces  as  "Michael"  (1800);  "The  Leech- 
Gatherer,"  the  sonnets  to  Milton,  to  Toussaint  L'Ouverture, 
"It  is  a  Beauteous  Evening,"  and  "Westminster  Bridge" 
(1802);  "The  Solitary  Reaper"  and  "Yarrow  Un visited" 
(1803);  the  "Ode  to  Duty,"  "To  a  Skylark,"  and  The  Pre- 
lude (1805) ;  "The  World  Is  Too  Much  With  Us,"  and  "The 
Ode  on  the  Intimations  of  Immortality"  (1806);  "Song 
at  the  Feast  of  Brougham  Castle"  (1807),  and  The  Ex- 
cursion (18 14).  For  many  years  his  poetry  met  with  neglect 
and  ridicule,  but  he  gradually  drew  to  himself  the  attention 
and  veneration  of  the  best  minds.  The  crowd  turned  aside 
to  follow  first  Scott,  then  Byron,  and  then  Tennyson ;  but 
those  whose  suffrages  were  of  most  value  rallied  in  increasing 
numbers  about  the  "good  old  steel-gray  figure"  of  the  Cum- 
berland poet;  and  before  his  death  in  1850,  he  enjoyed  a  late 
but  sure  renown. 

Wordsworth  as  Portrayed  by  Emerson  and  Carlyle. — 
Emerson  has  left  us  a  delightful  account  of  his  meeting  with 
Wordsworth  at  Rydal  Mount.  The  white-haired,  grey-clad 
poet  led  his  visitor  out  into  the  garden,  and  showed  him  the 
gravel  walk  where  thousands  of  his  lines  had  been  composed. 
Then,  without  solicitation;  he  offered  to  recite  three  sonnets 
which  he  had  just  written.  "He  recollected  himself  for  a 
few  moments,"  continues  Emerson,  "and  then  stood  forth 
and  repeated,  one  after  another,  the  three  entire  sonnets  with 
great  animation.  This  recitation  was  so  unlooked  for  and  sur- 
prising— he,  the  old  Wordsworth,  standing  apart  and  reciting 


254  The  Nineteenth  Century 

to  me  in  a  garden  walk  like  a  school-boy  declaiming — that 
I  was  at  first  near  to  laugh;  but  recollecting  myself,  that  I 
had  come  thus  far  to  see  a  poet,  and  here  he  was  chanting 
poems  to  me,  I  saw  that  he  was  right  and  I  was  wrong,  and 
gladly  gave  myself  up  to  him."  Beside  this  we  may  well 
place  Carlyle's  portrait  of  him,  as  he  appeared  ten  years 
before  his  death.  "A  fine,  wholesome  rusticity,  fresh  as 
his  mountain  breezes,  sat  well  on  the  stalwart  veteran.  His 
face  bore  marks  of  much,  not  always  peaceful,  meditation; 
the  look  of  it  not  bland  or  benevolent,  so  much  as  close, 
impregnable,  and  hard.  He  was  large-boned,  lean,  but 
still  firm-knit,  tall,  and  strong-looking  when  he  stood ;  a  right 
good  old  steel-grey  figure,  with  a  fine  rustic  simplicity  and 
dignity  about  him  and  a  veracious  strength  looking  through 
him." 

The  Nature-Poetry  of  Wordsworth. — Wordsworth  was 
gifted  with  an  eye  and  an  ear  marvellously  sensitive  to  those 
elusive  impressions  which  most  persons  pass  by  without 
noticing  at  all.  This  sensibility  was  increased  by  a  long  life 
spent  in  the  country,  in  a  region  full  of  charm  and  even  of 
grandeur.  His  poetry  is  full  of  exquisitely  noted  sights  and 
sounds — the  shadow  of  the  daisy  on  the  stone,  the  mist  which 
follows  the  hare  as  she  runs  across  a  rain-drenched  moor,  the 
echo  of  the  cuckoo's  voice,  the  varying  noise  of  waters,  and  the 
many  voices  of  the  wind.  "To  read  one  of  his  longer  pastoral 
poems  for  the  first  time,"  it  has  been  said,  "is  like  a  day 
spent  in  a  new  country."  And  all  these  sights  and  sounds 
are  given  with  absolute  truthfulness  to  the  fact.  Wordsworth 
writes  "with  his  eye  on  the  object,"  content  to  portray  what 
he  sees.  He  learned  from  Burns  that  "verse  can  build  a 
princely  throne  on  humble  truth";  and  everywhere  he  gives 
an  impression  of  unquestioning  faithfulness  to  the  fact  which 
his  senses  have  perceived.  It  follows  that  the  greater  part 
of  his  nature-studies  are  in  a  low  key.  Especially  noteworthy 
is  the  predominance  in  Wordsworth  of  broad  elementary 
impressions — mere  darkness  and  light,  the  silence  of  the 
sky,  the  moon  "looking  round  her  when  the  heavens  are 
bare,"  the  twilight  with  its  one  star,  the  breathlessness  of  the 
evening  sea,  the  lonesomeness  of  upland  fields,  the  "sleep 


William  Wordsworth  255 

that  is  among  the  lonely  hills."  It  is  the  keenness  of  Words- 
worth's sensibility  to  nature,  and  his  quiet,  religious  accept- 
ance of  her  as  she  is,  and  his  unwearied  delight  in  her 
broadest  and  simplest  phases,  which  together  make  him  the 
first  of  her  poets. 

Wordsworth's  Treatment  of  Human  Nature. — This  same 
sobriety  and  truth  of  tone,  this  same  reverent  regard  for  the 
great  commonplaces  of  life,  characterize  also  Wordsworth's 
treatment  of  human  nature.  He  deals  with  the  broad  ele- 
mentary passions,  the  everyday  affections,  occupations,  and 
duties,  in  a  state  of  society  where  man  is  simplest  and  nearest 
to  the  soil.  In  Tnany  of  his  best  poems,  indeed,  the  human 
beings  whom  he  pictures  seem  almost  a  part  of  the  landscape, 
an  emanation  from  nature  herself,  like  the  trees  or  the  rocks. 
The  figure  of  the  Leech-gatherer  on  the  moor  seems  as  much 
a  part  of  the  natural  landscape  as  the  pool  by  which  he  stands. 
The  woman  who  speaks  to  the  poet  in  "Stepping  Westward" 
seems  a  part  of  the  sunset,  so  blended  is  she  with  the  scene. 
In  "The  Highland  Reaper"  the  singing  of  the  girl  comes 
out  of  the  heart  of  the  day,  like  the  spirit  of  ancestral  Scotland 
telling  over  its  "old  unhappy  far-off  things,  and  battles  long 
ago";  she  is  hardly  more  of  a  human  personality  than  the 
cuckoo  or  the  nightingale  to  which  the  poet  compares  her 
voice.  Even  when  he  looks  closer  at  his  human  characters, 
and  shows  us  their  passions  and  the  accidents  of  their  life, 
they  still  partake  of  the  simplicity  and  breadth  of  external 
nature.  The  story  of  Margaret,  in  the  first  book  of  The 
Prelude,  illustrates  this,  as  does  in  a  still  better  way  "  Mich- 
ael," the  greatest  example  of  Wordsworth's  power  to  give  to 
the  simple  tragedies  of  the  peasant  world  a  kind  of  biblical 
majesty.  He  is  the  poet  of  that  joy  and  sorrow  which  is 
"in  widest  commonalty  spread."  He  looks  to  find  the  true 
significance  of  life  on  its  lower  levels.  The  best  praise  he 
can  give  his  own  wife  is  that  she  is  a  "being  breathing 
thoughtful  breath,"  in  whose  countenance  meet  sweet  house- 
hold records  and  promises.  For  Milton  his  best  praise  is 
that,  although  his  "soul  was  like  a  star  and  dwelt  apart," 
yet  it  laid  upon  itself  "the  lowliest  duties"  along  "life's 
common  way." 


256  The  Nineteenth  Century 

Wordsworth's  Mysticism:  "Tintern  Abbey." — Yet  nature 
is  for  Wordsworth,  even  when  he  portrays  her  external  aspect 
with  the  most  naked  truth,  never  merely  a  physical  fact; 
nor  has  man,  even  when  most  blended  in  with  her  external 
features,  merely  a  physical  relation  to  her.  On  the  contrary, 
nature  is  everywhere  full  of  spiritual  meaning,  and  speaks 
mysteriously  to  the  spirit  in  man,  working  upon  him  by  the 
power  of  kinship  and  mutual  understanding.  Perhaps  the 
most  complete  expression  of  this  aspect  of  his  thought  is 
"Tintern  Abbey,"  which  appeared  in  the  Lyrical  Ballads. 
"Tintern  Abbey"  was  written  during  a  walking  tour  which 
Wordsworth  took  in  1798,  in  company  with  his  sister, 
through  a  country  familiar  to  him  in  earlier  years.  The 
well-remembered  scenery  of  the  river  Wye  calls  up  before  his 
musing  thought  the  picture  of  his  boyhood.  He  shows  how 
the  influences  of  nature,  acting  upon  the  plastic  soul  of  youth, 
bear  fruit  in  later  life,  in  "sensations  sweet  felt  in  the  blood 
and  felt  along  the  heart,"  and  "little  nameless  unremembered 
acts  of  kindness  and  of  love";  and  how  they  lift  the  spirit 
which  remembers  them,  to 

"  that  blessed  mood 
In  which  the  burden  of  the  mystery, 
In  which  the  heavy  and  the  weary  weight 
Of  all  this  unintelligible  world 
Is  lightened    .     .     . 

While  with  an  eye  made  quiet  by  the  power 
Of  harmony,  and  the  deep  power  of  joy, 
We  see  into  the  life  of  things." 

And  he  suggests  an  explanation  for  this  strange  power  which 
nature  has  to  soothe  and  ennoble  the  human  soul,  namely, 
that  throughout  nature  there  is  diffused  the  active  spirit  of 
God:— 

"  Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 
And  the  round  ocean,  and  the  living  air, 
And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man; 
A.  motion  and  a  spirit,  that  impels 
All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thoughts, 
And  rolls  through  all  things." 


William  Wordsworth  257 

In  many  noble  poems  Wordsworth  developed  the  three  themes 
here  given  out:  the  eternal  beauty  of  nature,  which  waits 
everywhere  about  us  "to  haunt,  to  startle,  and  waylay";  the 
power  of  that  beauty  to  heal,  gladden,  and  fortify  whoever 
gives  it  welcome;  and  the  mystic  source  of  this  power,  the 
spirit  of  God,  hidden  yet  apparent  in  all  the  visible  creation. 
Perhaps  the  most  exquisite  expression  he  has  given  to  the 
idea  of  nature's  formative  power  upon  the  soul,  and  through 
the  soul  upon  the  body  of  man,  is  the  poem  beginning  "Three 
Years  She  Grew  in  Sun  and  Shower." 

"  Ode  on  the  Intimations  of  Immortality." — In  Words- 
worth's school-days  at  Hawkshead,  the  world  would  some- 
times, he  tells  us,  seem  suddenly  to  dissolve,  and  he  would 
fall  into  an  abyss  of  idealism  from  which  he  had  to  bring 
himself  back  to  reality  by  grasping  at  the  wall  by  the  roadside, 
or  by  stooping  to  pick  up  a  stone.  This  ideal  habit  of  mind, 
sobered  and  strengthened  by  reflection,  gives  to  his  poetry  a 
peculiarly  stimulating  character.  In  reading  him,  we  never 
know  when  the  actual  landscape  and  the  simple  human  story 
will  widen  out  suddenly  into  some  vaster  theme,  looking 
beyond  space  and  time;  so  that  he  awakens  in  us  a  kind 
of  apprehension  or  expectancy  which  forces  us  to  look  be- 
low the  surface  of  his  simplest  poem,  and  to  be  on  the  alert 
for  a  meaning  deeper  than  its  primary  one.  His  greatest 
poem,  the  "Ode  on  the  Intimations  of  Immortality,"  is  also 
the  one  in  which  speculation  is  the  boldest.  In  this  wonderful 
ode,  which  Emerson  called  the  "high- water  mark  of  poetry 
in  the  nineteenth  century,"  the  poet  looks  back  with  passion- 
ate regret  to  the  lost  radiance  of  his  childhood,  and  tries  to 
connect  childhood  reassuringly  not  only  with  manhood  and 
old  age,  but  also  with  a  previous  existence,  whence  it  brings 
its  light  of  innocence  and  joy.  The  poem  is  a  product  of 
that  majestic  kind  of  imagination  which  transcends  space  and 
time,  and  makes 

"Our  noisy  years  seem  moments  in  the  being 
Of  the  eternal  silence." 


258  The  Nineteenth  Century 


IV.   OTHER   ROMANTIC   POETS   OF  THE   FIRST   GROUP.* 
SOUTHEY   AND   SCOTT 

Southey. — It  has  long  been  the  custom  to  associate  with 
Wordsworth  and  Coleridge,  to  form  the  triad  of  "Lake 
poets,"  the  name  of  Robert  Southey,  Coleridge's  colleague 
in  the  youthful  scheme  of  pantisocracy.  Southey  was  a  man 
of  amiable  and  nobly  upright  character,  and  of  unwearied 
industry;  he  had  a  pure-hearted  passion  for  literature,  and 
an  unfaltering  belief  in  his  own  mission.  He  wrote  several 
very  long  and  ambitious  romantic  poems,  of  which  The  Curse 
of  Kehama  is  perhaps  the  best ;  and  many  prose  works,  among 
which  his  Life  of  Nelson  holds  a  worthy  place  in  literature  as 
a  model  of  succinct  and  vivid  biography.  Some  of  his  short 
poems  have  an  assured  place  with  posterity,  especially  his 
verses  "To  My  Books,"  in  which  his  devotion  to  the  literary 
life  finds  classic  expression.  But  his  long  poems  have  lost 
most  of  their  interest,  and  he  holds  his  place  in  the  Lake  triad 
less  by  poetic  gift  than  by  personal  association. 

Scott's  Career  as  a  Poet. — The  interest  in  the  Middle 
Ages  and  the  storied  past,  which  we  have  traced  through 
Gray,  Chatterton,  and  Ossian,  culminated  in  the  works  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott.  Scott  was  born  in  Edinburgh  in  1771; 
his  father  was  a  lawyer,  but  was  descended  from  a  vigor- 
ous and  war-like  border  clan.  Scott  developed  early  a 
passion  for  the  ballad  minstrelsy  of  his  land ;  and  he  spent 
many  days  of  his  youth  roaming  over  the  country,  gather- 
ing ballads  and  scraps  of  ballads  from  the  lips  of  Low- 
land peasants.  His  collection  was  published  under  the  title 
Border  Minstrelsy.  Scott  wrote  very  little  original  poetry 
until  his  thirty- fourth  year.  In  1805  appeared  The  Lay  of 
the  Last  Minstrel,  in  which  a  thread  of  "gothic"  super- 
stition is  woven  into  a  tale  of  Scotch  border  life  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  This  was  followed  in  1808  by  Marmion. 
Marmion  exhibited  in  much  greater  measure  the  brilliant 
descriptive  color,  the  swift  and  powerful  narrative  movement, 
and  the  ringing,  energetic  music,  which  had  made  the  "Lay" 
instantly  popular;   and  it  showed  a  great  advance  over  the 


Scott's  Poetry  259 

earlier  poem  in  life-likeness  and  breadth.  Scarcely  more 
than  a  year  later  appeared  The  Lady  of  the  Lake,  a  story 
softer  and  more  idyllic  than  Marmion,  yet  not  lacking  in  wild 
and  stirring  episodes;  in  it  Scott  came  far  nearer  than  he 
had  done  in  his  earlier  poems,  to  the  broad  imaginative  hand- 
ling of  mediaeval  Scotch  life  which  he  afterward  gave  in  his 
prose  romances. 

Qualities  of  Scott's  Poetry. — These  three  poems,  present- 
ing many  of  the'  new  romantic  motives  in  popular  and 
attractive  form,  were  greeted  with  delight.  The  diction  em- 
ployed in  them  was  fresh,  but  not,  like  the  language  of  Cole- 
ridge and  Wordsworth,  so  startlingly  novel  as  a  literary  me- 
dium that  it  repelled  the  unaccustomed  ear.  The  metre  was 
strong  and  buoyant,  appealing  powerfully  to  a  public  weary 
of  the  monotonous  couplets  of  the  preceding  age,  but  unable 
to  appreciate  the  delicate  melodies  of  the  "  Songs  of  Inno- 
cence and  Experience"  and  the  "Lyrical  Ballads."  The 
wild  scenery,  brightly  and  firmly  painted,  the  character  de- 
lineation, picturesque  and  broad;  and  the  vigorous  sweep  of 
the  story — all  contributed  to  give  these  stirring  verse-tales  a 
popularity  which  they  have  never  lost.  Scott  himself  de- 
scribed the  peculiar  excellence  of  his  poetry  truly  enough, 
though  with  characteristic  modesty,  as  consisting  in  a  "hur- 
ried frankness  of  composition  which  pleases  soldiers,  sailors, 
and  young  people  of  bold  and  active  disposition." 

Scott's  metrical  tales  did  much  to  win  the  battle  for  ro- 
mantic poetry.  He  was,  however,  not  much  in  earnest  as  a 
poet ;  and  when  the  public  turned  to  the  more  highly  colored 
verse-tales  of  Byron,  Scott  cheerfully  resigned  his  place  to 
the  younger  man,  and  began  his  far  greater  work  in  prose.* 

First  and  Second  Poetic  Groups  Contrasted. — The  group 
of  poets  who  came  to  manhood  when  the  French  Revolution 
was  at  its  height,  reacted  during  the  Napoleonic  wars  into 
settled  conservatism.  The  two  poets  whom  we  now  ap- 
proach, Byron  and  Shelley,  took  up  the  torch  of  revolution 
which  had  been  kindled  in  France  during  their  childhood, 
and  carried  it  flaming  into  new  regions  of  thought  and  feeling. 

*  (For  the  discussion  of  Scott's  prose  work,  and  a  fuller  account  of  his  life, 
see  Chapter  XIV.) 


260  The  Nineteenth  Century 


V.  GEORGE  GORDON,  LORD  BYRON  ( 1 788- 1 824) 

Byron's  Life. — George  Gordon,  Lord  Byron,  was  born  in 
1788,  of  a  family  of  noblemen  notorious  for  their  pride  and 
their  passionate  temper.  Their  family  seat  was  at  Newstead 
Abbey.  They  had  come  to  England  with  the  Conqueror,  and 
their  names  had  figured  in  a  score  of  battle-rolls.  The  poet's 
great-uncle  had  been  forced  to  flee  from  society,  after  being 
convicted  of  manslaughter.  The  poet's  father,  Captain  John 
Byron,  was  a  rake  and  spendthrift,  who  deserted  his  wife  after 
the  birth  of  their  son ;  and  the  mother  to  whose  care  Byron 
was  left  was  a  woman  of  weak  and  violent  disposition.  With 
these  antecedents  and  under  these  influences,  it  is  not  strange 
that  the  boy  grew  up  proud,  sullen,  and  reckless.  He  was  of 
extraordinary  physical  beauty,  and  a  lameness  of  one  foot 
added  to  this  a  touch  of  pathos.  Personal  fascination  was 
his  from  the  first.  He  mastered  his  little  world  of  school- 
fellows at  Harrow  with  the  same  enthralling  power  of  person- 
ality which  later  took  captive  the  imagination  of  Europe.  His 
first  volume  of  poems,  Hours  of  Idleness  (1807),  was  faithful 
to  the  school  of  Pope,  a  poet  for  whom  Byron  throughout 
his  life  professed  an  unswerving  admiration.  The  immature 
little  book  was  mercilessly  ridiculed  in  the  Edinburgh  Review. 
Byron  nursed  his  revenge,  and  in  1809,  after  he  had  taken 
his  hereditary  seat  in  the  House  of  Lords,  he  published  a 
vigorous  onslaught  upon  his  critics,  entitled  English  Bards 
and  Scotch  Reviewers.  It  is  significant  that  his  first  note- 
worthy performance  should  have  been  in  a  satiric  vein,  and 
occasioned  by  a  blow  to  his  personal  pride. 

Two  years  later  the  young  poet  set  off  upon  his  travels. 
Not  content  with  the  conventional  "grand  tour,"  he  pushed 
on  into  Turkey,  Greece,  and  the  islands  of  the  ^Egean ;  shar- 
ing the  hospitality  of  robber  chieftains,  rescuing  distressed 
beauties  from  the  harem,  and  doing  many  other  romantic 
things.  The  public,  at  any  rate,  was  eager  to  ascribe  all 
these  adventures  to  him,  incited  thereto  by  the  lurid  verse- 
romances,  The  Giaour  (1813),  The  Corsair  (1814),  and  others, 
which  he  poured  out  with  prodigal  swiftness  after  his  return 


LORD  BYRON 
From  a  painting  by  J.  Phillips,  R.  A. 


262  The  Nineteenth  Century 

to  England  in  1812.  These  verse-tales  were  preceded,  how- 
ever, by  the  first  two  cantos  of  Childe  Harold,  the  publication 
of  which  brought  instant  applause.  "  I  awoke  one  morn- 
ing," says  Byron,  "  and  found  myself  famous." 

Byron's  marriage  to  Miss  Milbanke,  in  181 5,  was  followed  a 
year  later  by  a  separation  from  his  wife  and  by  his  final  de- 
parture from  his  native  country.  The  next  years  he  spent 
in  Switzerland  and  Italy,  part  of  the  time  in  company  with 
Shelley.  To  this  period  belong  his  most  important  works, 
the  later  cantos  of  Childe  Harold  (1816-1818),  the  dramas 
Manfred  (1817)  and  Cain  (1821),  and  his  satiric  masterpiece, 
Don  Juan  (1819-1824).  The  romance  of  his  life  was  crowned 
by  a  romantic  and  generous  death.  In  1824  he  went  to 
Greece,  to  join  the  revolutionary  forces  gathered  to  liberate 
that  country  from  the  tyranny  of  the  Sultan.  He  was  given 
command  of  an  expedition  against  the  Turkish  stronghold 
of  Lepanto,  but  was  seized  with  fever  in  the  swamps  of 
Missolonghi,  and  died  before  he  had  had  time  to  prove  his 
ability  in  the  field.  On  his  death-bed  he  imagined  himself, 
in  his  delirium,  at  the  head  of  his  Suliote  troops,  leading  an 
attack  upon  Lepanto,  and  cried,  "  Forward,  forward,  follow 
me!" 

Byron's  Eastern  Tales  and  Dramas. — In  his  Eastern  tales 
and  his  dramas,  Byron  presents  under  many  names  one 
hero — himself,  or  rather  an  exaggerated  shadow  of  him- 
self. The  Conrads  and  Laras  of  the  tales  are  all  imperious 
and  lonely  souls  in  revolt;  mysteriously  wicked,  infernally 
proud,  quixotically  generous,  and  above  all  melancholy.  In 
Manfred  and  Cain  these  crude  outlines  became  imposing 
silhouettes,  thrown  out  sharply  against  a  back-ground  half 
real  and  half  supernatural.  The  scene  of  Manfred  is  laid  in 
the  high  Alps,  where  the  hero  lives  in  his  castle  in  gloomy 
and  bitter  isolation,  communing  with  unearthly  powers,  and 
scornfully  working  out  his  dark  fate.  In  the  drama  of  Cainy 
we  follow  the  earthly  rebel  and  first  shedder  of  human  blood, 
under  the  guidance  of  Lucifer,  the  rebel  angel,  into  Hell  and 
Chaos,  where  he  finds  grounds  for  his  hatred  of  God  and 
man.  It  was  by  these  plays  that  Byron  earned  his  title  as 
founder  and  chief  exemplar  of  the   "Satanic  school"  of 


George  Gordon,  Lord  Byron  263 

poetry.  They  are  perhaps  the  most  terrible  expression  of 
egoism  to  be  found  in  our  literature. 

Byron  as  a  Descriptive  Poet :  "  Childe  Harold." — Childe 
Harold  presents  the  Byronic  hero  in  a  softer  mood,  as  a  pen- 
sive wanderer  through  Europe  and  the  East.  In  the  third 
and  fourth  cantos,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  among  the  lakes 
and  mountain  solitudes  of  Switzerland,  the  decaying  glories 
of  Venice,  and  the  imperial  ruins  of  Rome,  the  poet's  imagi- 
nation is  genuinely  kindled,  and  the  passages  which  celebrate 
these  scenes  are  among  the  triumphs  of  descriptive  poetry  in 
our  language.  Doubtless  Shelley's  inspiring  companionship 
had  much  to  do  with  the  elevation  of  mood  and  style  which 
these  later  cantos  show.  Byron  paints  his  pictures  in  free, 
bold  strokes,  and  with  a  pomp  of  rhetoric  well  suited  to  his 
grandiose  subjects.  His  music,  too,  is  loud  and  sonorous; 
without  the  heartfelt,  searching  beauty  of  greater  melodists, 
but  with  an  orchestral  sweep  and  volume  which  stir  the 
blood. 

Byron  as  a  Satirist :  "  Don  Juan." — In  Don  Juan,  how- 
ever, Byron  first  found  his  genuine  voice,  and  it  proved  to  be 
neither  dramatic  nor  lyric,  but  satiric.  Don  Juan  is  a  com- 
prehensive satire  upon  modern  society.  The  hero  is  a  Cas- 
tilian  youth,  a  light-hearted,  irresponsible,  pagan  creature, 
who  wanders  through  Turkey,  Russia,  and  England,  meeting 
all  sorts  of  adventures,  particularly  such  as  exhibit  the  so- 
cial corruption  which  the  world  attempts  to  hide  under  a 
conventional  veneer.  The  poem  was,  in  effect,  a  long  peal 
of  scornful  laughter  flung  at  British  cant,  at  that  famous 
British  cant  which  Byron  declared  was  in  his  day  the 
main-spring  of  his  countrymen's  life,  both  national  and 
private. 

Byron's  Relation  to  his  Age. — We  cannot  hope  to  under- 
stand Byron  without  taking  into  account  the  state  of  England, 
and  of  continental  Europe,  in  his  day.  England,  in  her 
struggle  against  the  social  chaos  which  the  French  revolution 
threatened,  had  entrenched  herself  in  conservatism.  Her  one 
desire  was  to  preserve  her  ancient  institutions,  however  false 
they  had  become.  Her  ruling  classes,  taking  advantage  of 
this  mood  of  the  people,  used  it  to  their  own  selfish  ends. 


264  The  Nineteenth  Century 

Hypocrisy,  bigotry,  misgovernment,  and  oppression  were  the 
order  of  the  day.  Against  this  state  of  things  Byron  revolted 
with  all  his  strength. 

After  the  defeat  of  Napoleon  at  Waterloo,  the  governments 
of  Europe,  under  the  leadership  of  Metternich,  the  Austrian 
prime-minister,  entered  into  a  "Holy  Alliance"  to  crush  the 
spirit  of  democracy,  and  to  hold  the  continental  peoples  in 
much  such  a  bondage  as  England  had  voluntarily  assumed. 
The  spirit  of  revolution,  however,  was  still  alive,  no  longer 
joyous  and  hopeful,  but  gloomy  and  bitter.  So  long  as  it  had 
been  possible  for  men  to  dream  of  freedom  and  justice  for 
all  mankind,  the  revolutionary  spirit  had  been  social,  but 
when  these  large  dreams  were  shattered,  society  became  the 
enemy  of  the  freedom-loving  soul.  This  mood  of  personal 
rebellion,  in  which  the  individual  stands  apart  in  lawless  iso- 
lation, waging  dark  and  hopeless  war  against  a  hateful  world, 
is  the  mood  of  Byron.  His  rebellion  had  in  it  an  element  of 
the  theatrical  and  the  spectacular,  but  at  bottom  it  was  terri- 
bly sincere.  All  Europe  felt  its  sincerity,  and  worshipped  him 
as  the  embodiment  of  its  own  unhappy  ideal.  His  fascinating 
personality,  his  brilliant,  defiant  life,  the  romantic  mystery 
which  surrounded  him  wherever  he  went,  the  audacity  and 
energy  of  his  verse,  all  united  to  make  him  the  idol  of  his  age. 
Even  his  loose-flowing  neckerchief,  his  trick  of  deranging  his 
hair  and  leaving  his  shirt  collar  unbuttoned,  became  as  signs 
and  portents  to  his  generation.  But  this  Byron-worship, 
for  all  its  extravagance,  was  founded  upon  a  real  greatness  in 
the  man,  a  greatness  which  all  men  felt,  from  the  janitor  who 
kept  his  rooms  at  college  to  Shelley  and  Goethe.  Goethe 
declared  that  Byron's  personality  was  the  greatest  which  the 
world  had  seen,  and  he  enshrined  him  in  the  second  part  of 
Faust  as  Euphorion,  the  genius  of  modern  poetry. 

Byron  in  Our  Day. — Byron's  reputation  as  a  poet  has 
now  considerably  declined.  In  the  first  place,  we  miss  in  his 
poetry  the  pleasure  which  comes  from  perfected  art;  for 
Byron  was  a  careless  and  hasty  worker.  Lara  he  wrote  "  while 
undressing  after  coming  home  from  balls  and  masquerades, 
in  the  year  of  revelry,  1814.  The  Bride  was  written  in  iour, 
the  Corsair  in  ten  days."    He  would  not  or  could  not  revise. 


George  Gordon,  Lord  Byron  265 

"If  I  miss  my  first  spring,"  he  said,  "I  go  growling  back  to 
my  jungle."  All  his  poetry  is,  so  to  speak,  an  improvisation. 
But  while  it  has  the  defects,  it  has  also  the  charm  of  what- 
ever is  impromptu  and  spontaneous;  it  has  force  and  fire;  at 
its  best,  it  rushes  on  in  a  splendid  stream,  as  if  rejoicing  in  its 
own  unbridled  might. 

Another,  and  a  more  serious  flaw  in  Byron's  work  to  the 
reader  of  to-day,  is  that  we  miss  in  it  some  of  the  sincerity 
which  his  own  age  felt.  A  suspicion  of  "pose,"  of  empty 
rhetoric,  of  false. exaggeration,  troubles  us.  His  scorn  of 
his  fellow  men  seems  morbid;  his  constant  quarrelling  with 
life,  his  bitter  mockery  of  society,  seem  one-sided,  even  a 
little  childish.  To  do  him  justice,  we  must  think  ourselves 
back  into  the  age  for  which  he  wrote,  and  see  him  struggling 
against  what  was  really  hateful  in  his  world.  His  life,  thus 
viewed,  takes  on  real  heroism ;  we  recognize  that  he  battled, 
after  all,  for  society  and  not  against  it.  We  see  him,  as  has 
been  said,  engaged  in  "the  struggle  which  keeps  alive,  even  if 
it  does  not  save,  the  soul." 

VI.    PERCY   BYSSHE    SHELLEY    (1792-1822)  x 

Shelley's  Early  Life. — Percy  Bysshe  Shelley  was  born  just 
when  the  eyes  of  all  Europe  were  fixed  in  hope  and  fear  upon 
France,  and  the  "stars  fought  in  their  courses"  for  the  tri- 
umph of  a  new  order.  His  home  contained  no  elements  to 
control  his  peculiar  temperament.  His  father  was  a  Whig 
squire  of  narrow  views;  his  mother  bequeathed  to  him 
nothing  except  her  extraordinary  beauty.  At  Eton,  among 
the  tyrannies  of  a  great  public  school,  where  the  "fagging" 
system  was  still  in  force,  his  sensitive  nature  was  thrown 
into  a  fever  of  rebellion.  "I  have  seen  him,"  wrote  a  school- 
fellow, "surrounded,  hooted,  baited  like  a  maddened  bull"; 
and  when  thus  set  upon,  the  gentle,  high-spirited,  excitable 
boy  would  be  seized  with  a  frenzy  and  paroxysm  of  rage 
which  frightened  even  his  persecutors.  His  shyness  and 
strangeness  of  manner  won  him  the  nickname  of  "Mad 
Shelley."  In  the  "Hymn  to  Intellectual  Beauty"  he  gives 
a  glimpse  of  his  boyhood,  when  in  the  awakening  spring  he 


266  The  Nineteenth  Century 

pursued  through  the  starlit  woods  "  hopes  of  high  talk  with 
the  departed  dead,"  and  felt,  in  the  midst  of  the  bright 
season,  the  shadow  of  an  "awful  loveliness"  fall  upon  him. 
It  is  no  wonder  that  his  schoolmates  thought  him  strange, 
or  that  in  the  judgment  of  the  world  he  remained  "Mad 
Shelley  "  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

He  went  to  Oxford  in  1810.  Here  his  closest  friend  was 
Thomas  Hogg,  son  of  a  North-country  Tory  farmer,  and  as 
keen-sighted  and  shrewd  as  Shelley  was  dreamy  and  idealistic. 
Hogg  has  left  us  a  vivid  picture  of  Shelley  at  Oxford;  of  his 
chambers,  wildly  littered  with  books,  manuscripts,  and  ap- 
paratus for  scientific  experiments;  of  his  favorite  sports  of 
skimming  stones  and  sailing  paper  boats;  of  his  outbursts 
of  enthusiasm  over  ideas  of  justice,  and  of  indignation  at 
any  sight  of  cruelty  or  oppression ;  of  his  rapt  search  into  the 
mysteries  of  matter,  and  his  high  impassioned  discourse  con- 
cerning the  deeper  mysteries  of  mind.  Together  with  his 
friend,  Shelley  read  the  French  philosophers  of  the  revolu- 
tionary period,  and  the  two  young  enthusiasts  published 
their  views  of  religion  in  a  pamphlet  entitled  "The  Neces- 
sity of  Atheism."  For  this  they  were  expelled,  and  for  a 
time  lived  together  in  London.  In  August  of  the  same  year, 
181 1,  Shelley,  then  nineteen,  eloped  to  Scotland  with  Harriet 
Westbrook,  a  girl  of  sixteen,  and  was  married  in  Edinburgh. 
Then  followed  a  quixotic  attempt  to  arouse  Ireland  to  seek 
redress  for  her  national  wrongs.  The  young  couple  carried 
on  their  mission  by  throwing  from  the  windows  of  their 
lodging  in  Dublin  copies  of  Shelley's  "Address  to  the  Irish 
People,"  "to  every  passer-by  who  seemed  likely."  They 
continued  the  campaign  later  in  Wales,  by  setting  tracts 
adrift  in  the  sea  in  sealed  bottles,  or  sending  them  down  the 
wind  in  little  fire-balloons.  The  curious  mixture  in  Shelley 
of  the  real  and  the  unreal  is  sharply  brought  out  by  the  fact 
that  the  writings  thus  fantastically  put  in  circulation  are 
often  of  grave  and  simple  eloquence,  wise  in  counsel  and 
temperate  in  tone,  and  that  some  of  the  reforms  which  they 
advocate  have  since  been  enacted  into  law. 

An  acquaintance  with  William  Godwin,  a  revolutionary 
philosopher  and  novelist,  led  Shelley  to  write  Queen  Mab, 


Photograph,  copyright,  by  Frederick  Hollyer,  London 

PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY 
From  a  painting  by  Geo.  Clint,  R.  A. 


268  The  Nineteenth  Century 

a  crude  poem  attacking  dogmatic  religion  and  the  social 
state.  The  scandal  which  it  created  was  soon  increased  by 
incidents  of  another  kind.  Shelley's  marriage  with  Harriet 
Westbrook  had  not  only  been  hasty  and  rash;  it  had  been 
founded  upon  no  sympathy  of  nature  or  genuine  love,  but 
had  come  from  Shelley's  impetuous  offer  to  release  her  from 
what  he  deemed  the  "oppression"  of  her  parents.  They 
separated,  and  Shelley  formed  a  union  with  a  daughter  of 
William  Godwin.  This  was  followed  by  Harriet  Westbrook's 
suicide,  and  the  departure  of  Shelley  and  Mary  Godwin 
from  England  into  lasting  exile.  The  shock  of  the  tragedy 
dealt  a  blow  to  Shelley's  already  delicate  health,  and  pursued 
him  with  dark  thoughts  in  the  bright  land  of  Italy,  where  he 
spent  the  short  remainder  of  his  life. 

Shelley  in  Italy.— In  Italy  his  powers  developed  rapidly. 
At  Este,  near  Venice,  where  the  Shelleys  had  gone  to  be  near 
Byron,  the  beautiful  "Lines  Written  Among  the  Euganean 
Hills,"  were  composed,  as  well  as  "Julian  and  Maddalo,"  a 
poem  in  which  Byron  figures.  At  Rome,  amid  the  tangle  of 
flowers  and  vines  which  at  that  time  covered  the  mountainous 
ruins  of  the  Baths  of  Caracalla,  Shelley  wrote  his  lyrical 
drama,  Prometheus  Unbound.  "The  blue  sky  of  Rome," 
he  writes,  "and  the  effect  of  the  vigorous  awakening  of 
spring  in  that  divinest  climate,  and  the  new  life  with  which 
it  drenches  the  spirit  even  to  intoxication,  were  the  inspira- 
tion of  this  drama." 

In  the  same  wonderfully  fruitful  year  he  produced  The 
Cenci,  a  drama  intended  for  the  stage,  and  written  in  much 
more  simple  and  every-day  language  than  his  other  works. 
This  was  composed  in  a  villa  near  Leghorn,  in  a  glazed  ter- 
race at  the  top  of  the  house,  overlooking  the  Mediterranean 
and  flooded  with  the  sun  of  the  Italian  summer,  in  the 
almost  overpowering  intensity  of  which  Shelley's  tropic  na- 
ture took  a  singular,  not  to  say  an  uncanny,  delight.  At 
Florence,  where  he  went  in  the  fall  of  the  same  year,  the 
great  "Ode  to  the  West  Wind"  was  composed,  in  a  wood 
beside  the  Arno,  on  a  day  of  magnificent  storm,  when  the 
wind  was  collecting  the  vapors  which  pour  down  the  au- 
tumnal rains. 


Percy  Rysshe  Shelley  '  269 

The  next  two  years,  1820-1821,  were  spent  chiefly  at  Pisa. 
Several  congenial  friends  gathered  about  Shelley.  Among 
them  were  Lord  Byron,  Edward  Williams,  who  was-  to  share 
Shelley's  tragic  death,  and  Captain  Trelawney,  a  picturesque 
and  adventurous  character,  who  has  left  us  in  his  "Remi- 
niscences," a  record  of  Shelley's  last  days  as  vivid  as  Hogg's 
memorial  of  the  poet's  life  at  Oxford.  To  this  happy  period 
belong  some  of  Shelley's  most  memorable  poems;  "The  Sen- 
sitive Plant,"  suggested,  we  are  told,  by  the  flowers  which 
crowded  Mrs.  Shelley's  sitting-room,  exhaling  their  fragrance 
to  the  rich  Italian  sunlight;  "The  Witch  of  Atlas,"  written 
after  a  trip  to  the  pilgrimage-shrine  of  Mount  San  Pellegrino ; 
the  "Ode  to  a  Skylark,"  the  most  popular  of  all  Shelley's 
lyrics;  and  " Epipsychidion,"  a  rhapsody  addressed  to  a 
beautiful  '  young  Italian  girl,  Emilia  Viviani,  whom  the 
Shelleys  found  immured  against  her  will  in  a  convent.  This 
last  poem  is  remarkable  as  embodying  the  poet's  conception 
of  love,  on  its  ethereal  and  mystic  side.  Speaking  of  "Epi- 
psychidion "  to  a  friend,  he  said,  "  It  is  a  mystery;  as  to  real 
flesh  and  blood,  you  know  I  do  not  deal  in  these  articles;" 
and  he  complained  that  even  the  elect  among  his  readers, 
in  their  interpretation  of  the  poem,  reduced  him  to  the  level 
of  a  servant-girl  and  her  sweetheart. 

"  Adonais  " :  Shelley's  Death. — Shelley's  last  days  were 
spent  in  a  bare,  high-ceiled,  white-washed  villa  at  Lerici, 
on  the  Gulf  of  Spezia.  With  his  friend  Williams  he  had  built 
a  sail-boat,  christened  by  Byron  the  "Don  Juan."  Shelley 
was  passionately  fond  of  sailing,  and  much  of  the  poetry 
of  his  last  months  was  written  while  gliding  over  the  flashing 
blue  waters  of  the  gulf.  In  April  of  182 1  the  news  of  Keats's 
death  at  Rome  reached  Shelley;  and  the  unfounded  belief 
that  it  had  been  accelerated  by  a  sneering  review  of  Endym- 
ion  in  the  Quarterly  led  him  to  write  the  wonderful  threnody 
"Adonais,"  in  the  dead  poet's  memory.  At  the  close  of 
"Adonais,"  Shelley  sees  himself  swept  out  by  a  tempest  upon 
some  vast  ocean  of  the  spirit : 

"My  spirit's  bark  is  driven 
Far  from  the  shore,  far  from  the  trembling  throng 
Whose  sails  were  never  to  the  tempest  given. 


270  The  Nineteenth  Century 

The  massy  earth  and  sphered  skies  are  riven! 

I  am  borne  darkly,  fearfully  afar: 

Whilst  burning  through  the  inmost  veil  of  Heaven, 

The  soul  of  Adonais,  like  a  star, 

Beacons  from  the  abode  where  the  Eternal  are." 

'  In  July  of  1822,  a  few  months  after  these  prophetic  lines 
were  written,  Shelley's  boat,  returning  from  Leghorn  to  Lerici, 
with  himself,  his  friend  Williams,  and  a  sailor-boy,  was 
overwhelmed  by  one  of  those  swift  storms  which  sweep  the 
Mediterranean  during  the  summer  heats.  Some  days  later 
Shelley's  body  was  washed  ashore  at  Viareggio.  It  was 
burned  by  Trelawney  and  Byron  on  the  beach;  the  ashes 
were  placed  in  the  Protestant  cemetery  at  Rome,  near  the 
grave  where,  a  few  months  before,  Keats  had  been  laid. 

Shelley  as  Seen  by  his  Contemporaries. — Shelley's  figure 
was  slight  and  fragile.  His  wavy  brown  hair  became  gray 
very  early  in  life,  but  his  face  remained  to  the  end  strikingly 
smooth,  fresh-colored  and  youthful.  "His  features,"  says 
Hogg,  "were  not  symmetrical,  but  the  effect  of  the  whole  was 
extremely  powerful.  They  breathed  an  animation,  a  fire, 
an  enthusiasm,  a  vivid  and  preternatural  intelligence,  that 
I  never  met  with  in  any  other  countenance."  His  passion 
for  study  was  so  intense  that  to  open  a  great  book  for  the 
first  time  threw  him  into  a  violent  excitement — "his  cheeks 
glowed,  his  eyes  became  bright,  his  whole  frame  trembled, 
and  his  entire  attention  was  immediately  swallowed  up  in 
the  depths  of  contemplation."  Trelawney 's  account  of  his 
first  meeting  with  Shelley  brings  him  vividly  before  our 
eyes.  "  Swiftly  gliding  in,  blushing  like  a  girl,  a  tall,  thin 
stripling  held  out  both  his  hands;  and  although  I  could 
hardly  believe,  as  I  looked  at  his  flushed,  feminine,  and  art- 
less face,  that  it  could  be  the  poet,  I  returned  his  warm 
pressure.  After  the  ordinary  greetings  and  courtesies  he 
sat  down,  and  listened.  I  was  silent  from  astonishment. 
Was  it  possible  this  mild-looking,  beardless  boy  could  be 
the  veritable  monster,  at  war  with  all  the  world?  excom- 
municated by  the  fathers  of  the  church,  deprived  of  his 
civil  rights  by  the  fiat  of  a  grim  Lord  Chancellor,  discarded 
by  every  member  of  his  family,  and  denounced  by  the  rival 


Percy  Bysshe  Shelley  271 

sages  of  our  literature  as  the  founder  of  a  'Satanic  school"'? 
Among  the  circle  of  his  Pisan  friends,  the  poet  was  known 
by  two  nicknames,  "Ariel"  and  "The  Snake."  Both  are 
highly  descriptive.  The  first  suggests  his  unearthliness  and 
spirituality ;  the  second  was  given  him  because  of  his  sinuous 
figure,  noiseless,  gliding  movement,  bright  eyes,  and  perhaps, 
too,  because  of  a  slight  touch  of  the  uncanny  in  him.  Yet  it 
would  leave  us  with  a  false  impression  not  to  remember  that 
all  his  friends  testify  to  his  manliness,  his  genuineness,  his 
virile  mind.  The  fibre  of  his  nature  was  as  strong  as  it  was 
delicate  and  strange. 

The  "  Prometheus  Unbound." — Shelley's  most  character- 
istic work,  both  in  thought  and  style,  is  Prometheus  Un- 
bound. The  subject  was  suggested  by  a  lost  drama  of 
^schylus,  in  which  Prometheus,  the  heroic  friend  and  lover 
of  mankind,  was  unchained  from  a  bleak  precipice  where 
the  tyrant  Zeus  had  hung  him.  In  Shelley's  treatment  Pro- 
metheus represents,  not  a  superhuman  helper  of  mankind, 
but  Mankind  itself,  heroic,  just,  gentle,  sacredly  thirsting 
after  liberty  and  spiritual  gladness,  but  chained  and  tortured 
by  the  ruler  of  Heaven.  In  the  fulness  of  time  Demogorgon 
(Necessity)  hurls  the  tyrant  from  his  throne ;  and  Prometheus, 
amid  the  songs  of  Earth  and  the  Moon,  is  united  to  Asia, 
the  spirit  of  love  in  nature.  Here  as  elsewhere,  Shelley 
shows  himself  a  child  of  the  French  Revolution,  in  believing 
that  it  is  only  some  external  tyranny— the  might  of  priests 
and  kings,  the  weight  of  "custom,"  the  dark  dreams  of  super- 
stition— which  keeps  mankind  from  rising  to  his  ideal  stature. 
But  if  the  philosophy  of  Prometheus  Unbound  is  immature, 
and  tinged  with  the  misconceptions  of  the  time,  the  nobility 
of  its  mood,  the  heroic  enthusiasm  which  it  voices,  make  it 
eternally  inspiring.  And  for  its  spirit  of  sacred  passion  the 
verse  of  the  poem  is  a  glorious  vesture.  The  unearthly  beauty 
of  its  imagery,  the  keen  ethereal  music  of  its  songs  and 
choruses,  make  this  not  only  Shelley's  highest  achievement, 
but  a  fixed  star  in  the  firmament  of  poetry. 

Shelley  as  a  Lyric  Poet. — It  is  in  its  lyrics  that  Prometheuz 
reaches  its  greatest  altitudes,  for  Shelley's  genius  was  essen- 
tially lyrical.      In  all  his  best  songs  and  odes,  the  words 


272  The  Nineteenth  Century 

seem  to  be  moved  into  their  places  in  response  to  some 
hidden  tune,  wayward  and  strange  in  its  movement,  but 
always  rounding  into  a  perfect  whole.  Such  a  poem  as  that 
beginning  "Swiftly  Walk  Over  the  Western  Wave"  obeys  a 
higher  law  than  that  of  regularity,  and  with  all  its  way- 
wardness it  is  as  perfect  in  shape  as  a  flower.  The  rhythmical 
structure  of  the  "West  Wind"  should  be  studied  as  an  ex- 
ample of  Shelley's  power  to  make  the  movement  of  verse 
embody  its  mood.  In  this  ode,  the  impetuous  sweep  and 
tireless  overflow  of  the  terza  rima*  ending  after  each  twelfth 
line  in  a  couplet,  suggest  with  wonderful  truth  the  streaming 
and  volleying  of  the  wind,  interrupted  now  and  then  by  a 
sudden  lull.  Likewise  in  the  "Skylark,"  the  fluttering  lift 
of  the  bird's  movement,  the  airy  ecstasy  and  rippling  gush 
of  its  song,  are  subtly  mirrored  in  the  rhythm. 

Shelley's  Myth-making  Power;  His  "Unreality." — Another 
main  peculiarity  of  Shelley  as  a  poet  is  what  may  be  called  his 
"myth-making"  power.  His  poetry  is  full  of  "personifica- 
tions" which,  although  in  origin  not  different  from  those 
which  fill  eighteenth-century  poetry  with  dead  abstractions 
like  "smiling  Hope"  and  "ruddy  Cheer,"  are  imagined  with 
such  power  that  they  become  real  spiritual  presences,  inspir- 
ing wonder  and  awe.  Such  are  the  " Spirits  of  the  Hours"  in 
Prometheus  Unbound,  such  is  the  spirit  of  the  west  wind  in  the 
ode  just  mentioned,  the  latter  a  sublime  piece  of  myth-making. 
It  is  in  "  Adonais,"  however,  that  this  quality  is  best  exhibited. 
To  mourn  over  the  dead  body  of  Keats  there  gather  Splendors 
and  Glooms,  grief -clad  Morning  and  wailing  Spring,  desolate 
Hours,  winged  Persuasions  and  veiled  Destinies,  and  the 
lovely  dreams  which  were  the  exhalation  of  the  poet's  spirit 
in  life. 

Shelley  deals  less  with  actualities  than  does  any  other 
English  poet.  His  imagery  is  that  of  a  dream  world,  peopled 
by  ethereal  forms  and  bathed  in  prismatic  light.  He  is  at 
the  other  pole  from  Wordsworth's  homeliness  and  large  ac- 
ceptance of  nature  as  she  is.  Hence  an  air  of  unreality  rests 
over  Shelley's  work,  an  unreality  made  more  conspicuous  by 
his  unpractical  theories  of  conduct  and  of  society.    Matthew 

*  Ten-syllable  lines  rhyming  a  b  a,  c  b  c,  dcd,  etc 


John  Keats  273 

Arnold  called  him  "  a  beautiful  and  ineffectual  angel,  beating 
in  the  void  his  luminous  wings  in  vain."  But  beauty  such 
as  Shelley's  verse  embodies  cannot  be  ineffectual;  and  his 
burning  plea  for  freedom,  for  justice,  and  for  loving-kindness, 
has  never  ceased  to  be  potent  in  the  deepening  earnestness 
of  this  century's  search  after  social  betterment. 

VII.    JOHN   KEATS    (1795-1821) 

Keats's  Early  Life  and  Poetry. — John  Keats  was  born  in 
Finsbury,  London,  in  1795.  His  parentage  was  humble :  his 
father  had  been  head  hostler  in  a  livery  stable,  had  married 
the  daughter  of  his  employer  and  succeeded  to  the  business. 
At  first  the  family  lived  over  the  stable,  but  as  their  affairs 
prospered  they  removed  to  a  house  in  the  neighborhood. 
Keats  and  his  two  younger  brothers  were  sent  to  a  good  school, 
kept  by  the  father  of  Charles  Cowden  Clark,  the  poet's  inti- 
mate friend  throughout  life.  As  a  schoolboy  Keats  was 
a  spirited,  pugnacious  lad,  a  favorite  with  all  for  his  "terrier 
courage,"  as  well  as  for  his  " high-mindedness,  his  utter  un- 
consciousness of  a  mean  motive,  his  placability,  his  gener- 
osity." A  little  later  his  impulsiveness  and  animal  spirits 
turned  into  a  headlong  interest  in  books,  which  he  devoured 
in  season  and  out  of  season.  He  took  up  "for  fun"  the  task 
of  translating  the  entire  JEneid  into  prose.  His  father  had 
died  when  the  boy  was  ten  years  old ;  on  the  death  of  his 
mother  he  was  removed  from  school,  at  fifteen,  and  appren- 
ticed to  a  surgeon  at  Edmonton,  for  a  term  of  five  years.  He 
was  released  a  year  before  this  term  was  concluded,  and  went 
up  to  London  to  study  in  the  hospitals,  and  to  pass  his  ex- 
amination for  a  surgeon's  license.  But  his  growing  passion 
for  poetry  distracted  him  from  his  profession.  His  last 
operation  was  the  opening  of  a  man's  temporal  artery.  "I 
did  it,"  he  told  a  friend,  "with  the  utmost  nicety;  but  reflect- 
ing on  what  passed  through  my  mind  at  the  time,  my  dexter- 
ity seemed  a  miracle,  and  I  never  took  up  the  lancet  again." 
An  acquaintanceship  with  Leigh  Hunt  opened  up  to  him  a 
circle  of  friends  where  his  dawning  talents  found  recognition. 
The  circle  included  Haydon,  the  painter,  who  gave  the  poet 


274  The  Nineteenth  Century 

his  first  introduction  to  Greek  art.  Hunt  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  the  Elizabethans,  to  Milton,  and  to  the  great  Italian 
poets.  In  these  newly  discovered  glories  of  literature  Keats 
revelled  to  intoxication.  We  are  told  that,  in  company  with 
Charles  Cowden  Clark,  he  sat  up  one  whole  night  reading 
Chapman's  Homer;  the  next  morning  Keats  sent  his  friend 
the  magnificent  sonnet,"  On  First  Looking  into  Chapman's 
Homer,"  by  far  the  finest  thing  which  had  yet  come  from 
his  pen.  In  1817,  a  year  after  he  gave  up  surgery,  he  pub- 
lished a  little  volume  containing,  besides  this  sonnet,  a  num- 
ber of  other  early  poems.  The  most  interesting  of  these 
juvenile  pieces  is  the  one  beginning,  "  I  Stood  Tiptoe  Upon  a 
Little  Hill,"  which  shows  that  his  feeling  for  nature  was 
already  exquisite,  and  his  observation  keen ;  and  "  Sleep  and 
Poetry,"  where  his  young  devotion  to  his  art  is  beautifully 
apparent. 

"Endymion.,, — After  the  publication  of  his  first  volume 
of  poems,  Keats  went  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  later  to  Mar- 
gate on  the  seashore.  He  writes  from  there  that  he  "thinks 
so  much  about  poetry,  and  so  long  togethei,  that  he  cannot  get 
to  sleep  at  night,"  and  is  "in  continual  burning  of  thought." 
By  this  time  he  was  deep  in  his  first  long  poem,  Endymion, 
which  tells  the  story  of  the  Latmian  shepherd  beloved  by 
the  moon-goddess.  Endymion  was  published  in  1818.  The 
opening  passage  of  the  poem,  the  Hymn  to  Pan,  and  many 
other  lines  and  short  passages,  are  worthy  of  the  Keats 
that  was  to  be ;  but  as  a  whole  Endymion  is  chaotic,  and  too 
full  of  ornament.  Nobody  knew  this  better  than  Keats 
himself,  as  is  testified  to  both  by  his  letters  and  by  the  proudly 
humble  preface  in  which  he  describes  the  poem  as  a  "fever- 
ish attempt  rather  than  a  deed  accomplished,"  and  hopes 
that  "while  it  is  dwindling  I  may  be  plotting,  and  fitting 
myself  for  verses  fit  to  live."  This  preface  should  have 
disarmed  the  most  unfriendly  of  critics,  but  it  did  not.  The 
Quarterly  printed  a  sneering  review,  and  Blackwood's  rudely 
ordered  him  "back  to  the  shop,  Mr.  John,  back  to  plasters, 
pills,  and  ointment-boxes!" 

Keats's  Last  Volume;  His  Death. — To  what  purpose 
Keats  "  plotted,"  the  wonderful  volume  published  two  years 


.  1  \ 

f 

' 

Photograph,  copyright,  by  Frederick  Hollyer,  London 

JOHN  KEATS 
From  a  painting  by  Joseph  Severn 


276  The  Nineteenth  Century 

later,  in  1820,  shows.  It  was  entitled  Lamia,  Isabella,  The 
Eve  of  St.  Agnes,  and  other  Poems;  besides  the  pieces 
named,  it  contained  the  great  odes,  "  On  Melancholy,"  "  On 
a  Grecian  Urn,"  "To  Psyche,"  and  "To  a  Nightingale," 
and  the  heroic  fragment,  "Hyperion."  Two  years  had  done 
wonders  in  deepening  and  strengthening  his  gift.  During 
these  two  years  he  had  had  experience  of  death,  in  the  loss  of 
his  beloved  brother  Tom,  by  consumption ;  he  had  met  Fanny 
Brawne,  and  conceived  for  her  a  consuming  and  hopeless 
love.  The  funds  which  he  had  inherited  were  all  but  ex- 
hausted, and  he  was  confronted  with  poverty.  His  health 
began  to  fail;  the  disease  which  had  carried  off  his  brother 
progressed  with  dreadful  rapidity  in  his  highly-strung  phy- 
sique. To  Shelley,  who  had  invited  him  to  stay  at  Pisa,  he 
wrote  in  the  summer  of  1820,  "There  is  no  doubt  that  an  Eng- 
lish winter  would  put  an  end  to  me,  and  do  so  in  a  lingering 
and  hateful  manner."  In  September,  under  the  care  of  his 
generous  friend,  the  artist  Joseph  Severn,  he  took  passage  for 
Naples.  While  detained  by  contrary  winds  off  the  English 
coast  he  wrote  his  last  sonnet,  the  beautiful  one  beginning 
"Bright  Star,  Would  I  Were  Steadfast  As  Thou  Art,"  with  its 
touching  veiled  tribute  to  Fanny  Brawne,  whom  he  was  not  to 
see  again.  The  poet's  eyes  were  already  darkening  when 
he  reached  Rome.  In  February  of  1821,  in  a  house  over- 
looking the  Piazza  di  Spagna,  he  died,  and  was  buried  in  the 
Protestant  cemetery  by  the  Aurelian  Wall,  where  Shelley's 
ashes  were  soon  to  be  laid.  On  his  tomb  are  carved,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  request,  the  words,  "Here  lies  one  whose  name 
was  writ  in  water."  In  a  hopefuller  time  and  in  a  mood  of 
noble  simplicity,  he  had  said,  "I  think  I  shall  be  among  the 
English  poets  after  my  death." 

Keats  as  a  Man. — Keats's  appearance  is  thus  summed-up 
by  one  of  his  later  biographers,  from  the  many  descriptions 
left  us  by  his  friends:  "A  small,  handsome,  ardent  looking 
youth — the  stature  little  over  five  feet;  the  figure  compact 
and  well-turned,  with  the  neck  thrust  eagerly  forward,  carry- 
ing a  strong  and  shapely  head  set  off  by  thickly  clustering 
gold-brown  hair ;  the  features  powerful,  finished,  and  mobile ; 
the  mouth  rich  and  wider  with  an  expression  at  once  combat- 


John  Keats  277 

ive  and  sensitive  in  the  extreme;  the  forehead  not  high,  but 
broad  and  strong;  the  eyebrows  nobly  arched,  and  eyes 
hazel-brown,  liquid-flashing,  visibly  inspired — 'an  eye  that 
had  an  inward  look,  perfectly  divine,  like  a  Delphian  priestess 
who  saw  visions.'  "  Of  his  impulsive  generosity  of  nature 
all  his  friends  have  left  warm  testimony.  "He  was  the  sin- 
cerest  friend,"  says  one,  "the  most  lovable  associate,  the 
deepest  listener  to  the  griefs  and  distresses  of  all  around  him, 
that  ever  lived." 

Although  the  body  of  Keats's  work  lies  remote  from  every- 
day human  interest,  it  is  a  serious  mistake  to  think  of  him  as 
indifferent  to  human  affairs,  or  in  any  sense  effeminate. 
His  wonderful  letters,  with  their  rollicking  fun,  their  quick 
human  sympathy,  their  eager  ponderings  upon  life  and  clear 
insight  into  many  of  its  dark  places,  show  a  warm  and  most 
vital  nature.  Through  many  of  his  later  poems,  especially 
the  great  odes,  there  breathes  a  poignant  human  undertone, 
which  suggests  that  if  he  had  lived  he  might  have  turned 
more  and  more  to  themes  of  common  human  experience. 
Dying  as  he  did  at  twenty-five,  after  only  three  or  four 
years  of  opportunity,  he  yet  left  behind  him  a  body  of 
poetry  which  has  had  a  greater  influence  than  any  other 
upon  subsequent  verse.  From  the  youthful  work  of  Tenny- 
son and  Browning  down  to  the  present  day,  the  poetry  of  the 
Victorian  age  has  been  deeply  affected  by  Keats's  example. 

Qualities  of  Keats's  Poetry. — The  essential  quality  of 
Keats  as  a  poet  is  his  sensitiveness  to  beauty,  and  the  single- 
ness of  aim  with  which  he  seeks  for  "  the  principle  of  beauty 
in  all  things."  He  worships  beauty  for  beauty's  sake,  with 
the  unreasoning  rapture  of  a  lover  or  a  devotee.  In  his 
first  volume  he  tells  of  the  "dizzy  pain"  which  the  sight  of 
the  Elgin  marbles  gave  him,  of  the  "indescribable  feud" 
which  they  "brought  round  his  heart."  He  opens  his  second 
volume  with  the  memorable  line,  "A  thing  of  beauty  is  a 
joy  forever";  and  in  his  last  volume,  at  the  close  of  the  ode 
"On  a  Grecian  Urn,"  he  declares  that  beauty  is  one  with 
truth. 

It  is  this  passion  for  beauty,  working  through  a  very  deli- 
cate and  powerful  temperament,  which  gives  to  Keats's  poetry 


278  The  Nineteenth  Century 

its  ricliness,  and  which  makes  it  play  magically  upon  all  the 
senses  of  the  reader.  The  pure  glow  of  his  color  reminds  us 
of  the  great  Italian  painters ;  and  the  music  of  his  best  verse 
has  a  wonderful  mellowness  and  depth,  as  if  blown  softly 
through  golden  trumpets.  From  the  first,  his  poetry  has 
extraordinary  freshness,  energy,  gusto.  His  use  of  words 
is,  even  in  his  earliest  volume,  wonderfully  fresh.  He  re- 
vived old  words,  coined  new  ones,  and  put  current  ones  to 
a  new  service,  with  a  confidence  and  success  unequalled  by 
any  other  English  poets  except  Chaucer,  Shakespeare,  and 
Spenser. 

The  sense  of  form,  which  is  so  conspicuous  in  Keats's 
later  work,  was  a  matter  of  growth  with  him.  Endymion  is 
formless,  a  labyrinth  of  flowery  paths  which  lead  nowhere. 
But  the  great  odes,  especially  the  "Nightingale"  and  the 
"Grecian  Urn,"  and  the  later  narrative  poems,  the  "Eve  of 
St.  Agnes"  and  "Lamia,"  have  a  wonderful  perfection  of 
form,  a  subordination  of  part  to  part  in  the  building  up  of  a 
beautiful  whole,  which  is  the  sign  of  the  master-workman. 
This  is  particularly  true  of  "  St.  Agnes'  Eve,"  that  latest  and 
perhaps  most  perfect  flower  of  the  old  Spenserian  tree.  The 
story  of  Madeline's  dream  on  the  haunted  eve,  of  its  magical 
fulfilment  through  young  Porphyro's  coming,  and  of  their 
flight  from  the  castle,  is  set  in  a  framework  of  storm  and  cold, 
of  dreary  penance  and  spectral  old  age,  of  barbarous  revelry 
and  rude  primeval  passion,  which  by  a  series  of  subtle  and 
thrilling  contrasts  marvellously  heightens  the  warm  and  ten- 
der radiance  of  the  central  picture;  then,  when  the  illusion 
of  reality  is  at  the  height,  the  whole  thing  is  thrown  back  into 
the  dim  and  doubtful  past  by  the  words 

"And  they  are  gone;  aye,  ages  long  ago 
These  lovers  fled  away  into  the  storm." 

Keats's  strength,  which  we  see  in  "The  Eve  of  St.  Agnes/* 
"Lamia,"  and  the  Odes,  working  in  the  service  of  perfect 
grace,  impelled  him  in  Hyper'.on  to  attempt  a  theme  of 
the  largest  epic  kind,  the  overthrow  of  the  old  Titan,  sun- 
deity  Hyperion  by  the  new  sun-god  Apollo.      The  subject 


The  Romantic  Essayists  279 

proved  too  large  for  his  undeveloped  powers,  and  he  threw 
it  aside,  on  the  ground  that  there  were  "too  many  Miltonic 
inversions  in  it."  Probably  the  deeper  reason  was  that  he 
felt  as  yet  unequal  to  the  task  of  giving  form  to  his  mighty 
subject,  and  his  artistic  sense  would  no  longer  permit  him 
to  be  content  with  formlessness.  As  the  poem  stands  it  is 
a  superb  fragment,  an  august  portal  to  a  temple  which  will 
never  be  built. 

VIII.   THE   ROMANTIC   ESSAYISTS 

Lamb  and  De  Quincey. — The  leading  exponents  of  the  new 
romantic  school  of  criticism  were  Charles  Lamb  and  Thomas 
De  Quincey.  Lamb  was  a  pioneer  in  the  Elizabethan  re- 
vival, and  De  Quincey  was  one  of  the  earliest  champions  of 
the  Lake  school  of  poetry.  Both  of  these  writers  united 
the  criticism  of  literature  with  the  criticism  of  life,  and  it  is 
in  the  latter  province  that  their  most  important  work  was 
done. 

Life  of  Lamb ;  His  Early  Critical  Work. — Charles  Lamb 
was  born  in  London  in  1775,  and  was  brought  up  within  the 
precincts  of  the  ancient  law-courts,  his  father  being  a  servant 
to  an  advocate  of  the  Inner  Temple.  From  the  cloisters  of 
the  Temple  he  was  sent  to  the  cloisters  of  Christ's  Hospital, 
where  he  had  for  a  classmate  Coleridge,  his  lifelong  friend.* 
At  seventeen  he  became  a  clerk  in  the  India  House,  and  here 
he  spent  the  working  hours  of  the  next  thirty-three  years, 
until  he  was  retired  on  a  pension  in  1825.!  His  lifelong 
devotion  to  his  sister  Mary,  upon  whom  rested  an  hereditary 
taint  of  insanity,  has  done  almost  as  much  as  the  sweetness 
and  gentle  humor  of  his  writings  to  endear  his  name.  He 
died  in  1834,  his  sister  outliving  him  and  gradually  sinking 
into  that  mental  darkness  from  which  his  patience  and  ten- 
derness had  upheld  her. 

Lamb's  first  successful  literary  venture  was  his  Tales  from 
Shakespeare  (1807),  written  in  collaboration  with  his  sister, 

*  See  Lamb's  "  Recollections  of  Christ's  Hospital "  and  "  Christ's  Hos 
pital  Five  and  Thirty  Years  Ago,' '  in  the  Essays  of  Elia. 
t  See  Elia  Essay.  "The  Superannuated  Man." 


280  The  Nineteenth  Century 

and  intended  for  children.  A  year  later  he  published  his 
Specimens  of  English  Dramatic  Poets,  with  critical  com- 
ments. His  reading  in  the  Elizabethan  drama  was  ex- 
tensive, his  appreciation  of  its  qualities  subtle  and  penetrat- 
ing, and  his  enthusiasm  for  it  unbounded.  The  book  did 
much  to  revive  the  almost  extinguished  fame  of  the  lesser 
dramatists  grouped  about  Shakespeare.  It  is  one  of  the 
earliest,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  significant  products  of  the 
new  romantic  criticism. 

The  "  Essays  of  Elia." — But  it  is  not  as  a  critic  of  litera- 
ture, but  as  a  commentator  upon  life,  recording  his  moods, 
his  memories,  his  witty  and  tender  observations,  that  Lamb 
reveals  his  true  greatness.  The  Essays  of  Elia,*  published 
at  intervals  in  the  London  Magazine,  were  at  length  gathered 
together  and  republished  in  two  series,  the  first  in  1823,  the 
second  ten  years  later.  The  essays  cover  a  great  variety 
of  topics,  but  the  approach  to  the  subject  is  always  a  personal 
one;  and  it  is  this  intimate  quality,  communicating  to  us 
the  author's  odd  and  lovable  personality,  which  constitutes 
their  chief  charm.  Many  of  them  are  confessions  of  per- 
sonal prejudice,  such  as  the  essay  entitled  "Imperfect  Sym- 
pathies," where  Lamb's  dislike  of  Scotchmen  and  his  taste 
for  Quakers  is  made  matter  of  delicious  mirth.  In  "  Old 
China"  Lamb  gives  a  winning  picture  of  his  home  life  with 
his  sister,  who  appears  here  and  elsewhere  as  "  Cousin 
Bridget."  In  "Dream  Children,"  a  beautiful  and  deeply 
affecting  essay,  he  talks  with  two  children  conjured  from 
nothingness  to  solace  for  an  hour  his  lonely  hearth.  To 
turn  from  an  essay  like  this  to  the  famous  extravaganza 
entitled  "A  Dissertation  on  Roast  Pig,"  is  to  sound  the  full 
gamut  of  Lamb's  pathos  and  humor. 

The  style  of  these  essays  is  in  part  borrowed  from  older 
writers,  especially  the  quaint  and  eloquent  essayists  of  the 
seventeenth  century;  but  it  is  nevertheless  wholly  new  and 
individual,  betraying  its  remote  origin  only  by  a  certain  rare- 
ness and  charming  oddity  of  flavor.     The  "  Elia "  papers 

*  The  pseudonym  Elia  was  borrowed  by  Lamb  from  an  Italian  clerk  in 
the  South  Sea  House,  named  Ellia.  The  change  of  spelling  has  led  to  the 
broadening  of  the  initial  letter  in  pronunciation. 


Thomas  De  Quincey  281 

continue  the  traditions  of  essay  writing  fixed  by  Addison 
and  Steele,  but  their  range  is  wider,  and  their  treatment  of 
human  life  is  marked  by  the  more  searching  pathos,  the 
more  sensitive  and  flashing  humor,  which  belong  to  Lamb 
as  a  partaker  in  the  spiritual  awakening  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  Like  the  Queen  Anne's  men  from  whom  he  bor- 
rowed the  idea  of  the  essay,  he  cared  little  for  natural  beauty, 
and  was  essentially  a  Londoner.  London,  its  streets,  its 
shops,  its  theatres,  was  the  place  of  his  affection,  and  he  has 
pictured  many  of  the  phases  of  its  life  with  the  vividness  that 
comes  from  personal  delight. 

De  Quincey :  His  Life. — In  Thomas  De  Quincey  the  ro- 
mantic element  is  more  pronounced,  and  displays  itself  not 
only  in  his  writings,  but  in  the  circumstances  of  his  life.  He 
was  born  in  Manchester  in  1785,  the  son  of  a  prosperous 
merchant  in  the  foreign  trade.  At  sixteen  he  ran  away  from 
the  Manchester  grammar-school,  and  spent  a  summer  wan- 
dering in  North  Wales,  often  sleeping  on  the  open  hills  or  in 
the  tents  of  gypsies.  When  the  cold  weather  came  on,  he 
made  his  way  to  London,  where  he  led  a  starved  and  vagrant 
existence,  until  he  was  reclaimed  by  his  family  and  sent  to 
Oxford.  He  was  one  of  the  earliest  converts  to  the  "Lake 
poetry,"  and  after  leaving  college  he  established  himself  at 
Grasmere,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Wordsworth  and  Southey. 
Here  he  lived  for  more  than  twenty  years,  reading  prodigiously 
and  eating  vast  quantities  of  opium.  By  reason  of  some 
peculiarity  of  his  constitution  the  drug  was  less  fatal  in  its 
workings  than  is  commonly  the  case;  but  the  splendid  and 
tumultuous  dreams  which  it  brought  were  paid  for  by  periods 
of  awful  gloom  and  lassitude.  In  his  thirty-first  year  De 
Quincey  married.  Forced  to  earn  money  by  his  pen,  he 
published  in  1 821-182  2  the  famous  Confessions  of  an  English 
Opium-Eater,  and  from  this  time  forth  he  poured  out  maga- 
zine articles  on  almost  every  conceivable  topic.  In  1830 
he  removed,  with  his  wife  and  children,  to  Edinburgh,  where 
he  resided  until  his  death  in  1859. 

"  Confessions  of  an  Opium-Eater." — His  best-known  work 
is  also  his  most  characteristic,  the  Opium-Eater,  and  its 
sequel,  Suspiria  de  Profundis.     Only  a  small  portion  of  the 


282  The  Nineteenth  Century 

Opium-Eater  deals  with  the  subject  of  opium-taking.  It  is 
an  extended  autobiography,  covering  the  life  of  the  author 
from  early  childhood  to  about  the  year  1819,  when  his 
bondage  to  opium  became  absolute.  The  most  powerful 
portion  of  the  narrative,  aside  from  the  description  of  his 
opium  sensations,  is  that  which  tells  of  his  life  of  vagrancy 
and  starvation  in  London,  and  of  his  nightly  wanderings 
with  "poor  Ann"  through  the  crowded  desolation  of  Oxford 
street.  The  Suspiria  de  Profundis  (Sighs  from  the  Depths) 
is  made  up  mainly  of  dream-phantasies  transcribed  from 
the  wanderings  of  his  mind  under  the  spell  of  opium,  or 
suggested  by  them. 

De  Quincey's  Style. — In  such  strange  imaginings  as  "Le- 
vana  and  Our  Ladies  of  Sorrow,"  in  the  Suspiria,  and  the 
"Dream-Fugue"  appended  to  the  English  M ail-Coach,  De 
Quincey  developed  a  kind  of  prose  closely  resembling  verse, 
in  its  rhythm  and  its  rich  imagery.  In  doing  so,  he  revealed 
new  possibilities  in  the  English  tongue.  The  following  pas- 
sage from  the  "Opium- Eater"  will  illustrate  the  poetical 
quality  of  his  style.  It  describes  a  series  of  dreams  suggested 
by  the  sight  of  a  mysterious  Malay,  who  appeared  one  day  at 
De  Quincey's  door — "I  brought  together  all  creatures,  birds, 
beasts,  reptiles,  that  are  found  in  all  tropical  regions.  .  .  . 
I  was  stared  at,  hooted  at,  grinned  at,  chattered  at,  by  mon- 
keys, by  paroquets,  by  cockatoos.  I  ran  into  pagodas,  and 
was  fixed  for  centuries  at  the  summit,  or  in  secret  rooms; 
I  was  the  idol;  I  was  the  priest;  I  was  worshipped;  I  was 
sacrificed.  I  fled  from  the  wrath  of  Brama  through  all  the 
forests  of  Asia ;  Vishnu  hated  me ;  Seeva  lay  in  wait  for  me. 
I  came  suddenly  upon  Isis  and  Osiris:  I  had  done  a  deed, 
they  said,  which  the  ibis  and  the  crocodile  trembled  at. 
Thousands  of  years  I  lived  and  was  buried  in  stone  coffins, 
with  mummies  and  sphinxes,  in  narrow  chambers  at  the 
heart  of  eternal  pyramids.  I  was  kissed,  with  cancerous 
kisses,  by  crocodiles,  and  was  laid,  confounded  with  all  un- 
utterable abortions,  amongst  reeds  and  Nilotic  mud."  Upon 
this  and  similar  passages  of  richly  colored,  chanting  prose, 
De  Quincey's  fame  as  a  writer  rests.  The  qualities  of  style 
exhibited  in  them  have  had  a  great  influence  upon  the  prose 


A  Transition  Period  283 

writing  of  the  century,  an  influence  which  can  be  traced  in 
such  widely  different  writers  as  Bulwer  and  Ruskin. 

Transition  to  the  Victorian  Era. — From  the  death  of  Byron 
in  1824  until  the  decisive  appearance  of  Tennyson  in  1842, 
there  was  a  period  of  comparative  exhaustion  in  English 
literature.  Keats  and  Shelley  were  dead;  Coleridge  was 
lost  in  metaphysics,  and  Wordsworth  had  almost  ceased  to 
produce  poetry  of  value ;  Scott  died  in  1832,  and  the  best  work 
of  Lamb  was  done  before  that  date.  During  this  period  of 
lull,  the  new  forces  which  were  to  go  to  the  making  of  liter- 
ature during  the  reign  of  Victoria,  were  gathering  strength. 
Tennyson,  Browning,  and  Carlyle  had  already  appeared; 
and,  although  they  remained  as  yet  comparatively  obscure, 
they  were  doing  some  of  their  greatest  work.  Thomas  Hood 
(1 798-1845),  in  his  "Bridge  of  Sighs"  and  "Song  of  the 
Shirt,"  had  struck  the  note  of  sympathy  with  the  unfortunate 
and  oppressed,  which  was  to  swell  in  volume  and  depth 
through  the  whole  course  of  Victorian  literature.  We  must 
consider  in  the  next  chapter  that  body  of  literature,  gigantic 
in  bulk  and  almost  infinite  in  variety,  which  places  the  era 
of  Victoria  beside  that  of  Elizabeth  in  literary  importance. 


REVIEW  OUTLINE.— The  introduction  to  this  chapter  first  sets 
forth  briefly  the  political  conditions  in  England  and  France  during 
the  French  Revolution  and  the  Napoleonic  wars.  It  next  defines  the 
relation  of  hostility  borne  to  the  Revolution  by  England  as  a  nation, 
and  the  attitude  of  sympathy  which  the  first  group  of  poets,  with 
Wordsworth  at  their  head,  held  toward  the  struggles  of  France  to 
realize  a  new  form  of  society.  It  then  shows  that  after  this  first  poetic 
group  abandoned  their  revolutionary  tendencies  and  swung  back  into 
a  conservative  position,  a  second  group  of  writers,  of  whom  Byron  and 
Shelley  were  the  chief,  arose  to  proclaim  anew  the  doctrines  of  the 
revolutionists.  Only  a  small  portion  of  the  poetry  of  the  age  was 
directly  inspired  by  the  Revolution;  the  influence  was  for  the  most 
part  indirect,  or  rather  it  was  the  same  impulse  toward  freedom  and 
truth  of  life  which  expressed  itself  on  the  one  side  in  social  revolution, 
and  on  the  other  in  that  literary  revolution  which  we  call  the  Romantic 
movement. 


284  The  Nineteenth  Century 

Give  a  brief  account  of  Coleridge's  early  life,  his  friendship  with 
Southey,  and  his  earliest  literary  efforts.  Tell  what  you  can  of  the  re- 
lations between  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth.  At  what  time  of  his  life 
was  Coleridge's  best  poetry  written  ?  How  did  "  The  Ancient  Mariner  " 
come  to  be  written?  What  was  the  purpose  of  Wordsworth  and  Cole- 
ridge in  projecting  the  volume  of  "  Lyrical  Ballads  "  ?  What  aspect 
of  the  "  Romantic  imagination  "  did  each  present  ?  Illustrate  from 
"  The  Ancient  Mariner  "  and  "  We  are  Seven."  Why  were  the  "  Lyri- 
cal Ballads  "  an  important  landmark  in  the  history  of  English  poetry  ? 

Describe  the  influences  of  Wordsworth's  earlier  and  later  life  which 
helped  to  give  him  his  peculiar  insight  into  nature.  Give  an  account 
of  Wordsworth's  relation  to  the  French  Revolution,  in  its  earlier  and 
its  later  phases.  During  what  period  of  his  life  was  Wordsworth's 
best  work  done  ?  The  three  qualities  of  Wordsworth's  nature-poetry 
noted  here  are  its  sensitiveness,  its  truth,  and  its  breadth;  find  for 
yourself  passages  which  illustrate  each  of  these  qualities.  In  what 
respect  is  Wordsworth's  presentation  of  nature  and  his  presentation 
of  human  nature  similar  ?  Consider  the  suggestion  made  here  of  the 
union  of  Wordsworth's  love  of  nature,  with  his  love  of  man  and  of  God. 
Point  out  some  expression  of  this  threefold  and  united  sentiment  in 
the  quotation  given  from  "  Tintern  Abbey"  and  if  possible,  in  passages 
found  in  your  own  reading.  What  is  the  theme  of  Wordsworth's  great- 
est poem  ?  What  quality  of  Wordsworth's  mind  does  it  especially 
illustrate  ? 

How  did  Southey's  name  come  to  be  closely  associated  with  the 
names  of  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  ?  In  what  department  of  liter- 
ature was  Southey's  best  work  done  ?  What  general  aspect  of  the 
Romantic  revival  of  the  eighteenth  century  found  its  culminating  ex- 
pression in  the  poetry  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  ?  In  what  way  did  Scott's 
poetry  serve  as  an  intermediary  between  that  of  the  preceding  age 
and  the  delicate  melodies  of  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  ?  What  value 
did  Scott  put  on  his  own  poetry  ?  In  what  field  was  his  most  im- 
portant work  to  be  done  ? 

Give  a  brief  biographical  sketch  of  Byron.  For  what  common  at- 
tribute are  the  names  of  Byron  and  Shelley  associated  ?  What  was 
the  cause  of  Byron's  immense  popularity  ?  Who  was  Byron's  per- 
sistent hero  ?  Say  what  you  can  of  Byron's  strength  and  weakness  as 
a  poet.  What  was  the  most  significant  quality  in  his  earlier  verse- 
tales?    What  in  his  "Childe  Harold  "  ?    What  in  his  "  Don  Juan"  ? 


Review  Outline  '285 

Give  a  sketch  of  Shelley's  life.  How  do  Shelley's  manifestations 
of  the  spirit  of  revolution  differ  from  Byron's  ?  Why  is  Shelley's 
"  Prometheus  "  said  to  be  his  most  characteristic  work  ?  What  is  the 
underlying  thought  of  this  poem  ?  Where  is  its  greatest  beauty  to  be 
found  ?  Explain  the  metrical  structure  of  Shelley's  "  Ode  to  the  West 
Wind."  Of  whom  is  Shelley's  poem  "Adonais  "  a  memorial  ?  What 
other  important  English  threnodies  were  written  in  honor  of  personal 
friends  who  were  also  poets  ?  (See  pages  145  and  306).  Study  the 
"Adonais"  and  explain  how  it  exemplifies  Shelley's,  myth-making 
power.  In  what  respect  is  Shelley  said  to  be  at  the  antipodes  from 
Wordsworth  ? 

Give  a  brief  sketch  of  Keats's  life.  What  were  his  relations  with  the 
following  persons:  Leigh  Hunt,  Haydon,  Charles  Cowden  Clark,  Fanny 
Brawne,  Shelley,  Joseph  Severn  ?  What  was  his  own  estimate  of  his 
first  ambitious  poem,  "  Endymion  "  ?  What  circumstances  intervened 
between  the  publication  of  "  Endymion  "  and  his  last  volume  to  deepen 
his  nature  and  strengthen  his  art  ?  From  what  may  it  be  inferred 
that  Keats,  if  he  had  lived,  would  have  turned  to  poetic  themes  of  a 
more  directly  "  human  "  sort  ?  What  is  Keats's  essential  quality  as 
a  poet  ?  How  may  we  trace  the  growth  of  his  feeling  for  artistic 
form? 

Who  were  the  most  important  prose  writers  of  the  new  Romantic 
school  ?  Give  a  brief  account  of  the  life  of  Lamb.  What  is  the  quality 
that  gives  to  Lamb  his  peculiar  influence  ?  How  do  Lamb's  little 
studies  of  life  differ  from  those  of  Addison  and  Steele?  What  is 
meant  by  saying  that  these  studies  reveal  Lamb's  participation  in  the 
spiritual  awakening  of  the  nineteenth  century  ?  In  what  respect  does 
Lamb  resemble  the  Queen  Anne  essayists? 

Give  a  brief  account  of  De  Quincey's  life-.  What  is  his  best-known 
work  ?  How  did  De  Quincey  impart  a  new  impetus  to  English 
prose  ? 

READING  GUIDE.— For  class  work  upon  this  period  the  lollowing 
list  of  reading,  or  as  large  a  portion  of  it  as  can  be  accomplished,  is 
recommended.  Coleridge:  "The  Ancient  Mariner,"  "Kubla  Khan," 
the  first  part  of  "Christabel."  Wordsworth:  "Michael,"  "The  Leech- 
Gatherer,"  "Ode  on  Intimations  of  Immortality,"  "Tintern  Abbey," 
"We  are  Seven,"  "Lines  Written  in  Early  Spring,"  "To  a  Sky-lark," 
•"The  Solitary  Reaper,"  "Strange  Fits  of  Passion  I  Have  Known,"  "Three 


286  The  Nineteenth  Century 

Years  She  Grew,"  "She  Dwelt  Among  the  Untrodden  Ways,"  "A  Slum- 
ber Did  My  Spirit  Seal,"  "I  Travelled  Among  Unknown  Men";^  and 
the  sonnets,  " Milton,  Thou  Shouldst  Be  Living  At  This  Hour,"  "Scorn 
Not  the  Sonnet,"  "It  Is  a  Beauteous  Evening,"  sonnet  on  Westminster 
Bridge,  and  to  Toussaint  L'Ouverture.  Southey:  "Life  of  Nelson." 
Scott:  "The  Lady  of  the  Lake"  or  "Marmion."  Byron:  "Childe 
Harold,"  third  canto,  "  Mazeppa,"  "  The  Prisoner  of  Chillon."  Shelley: 
"Ode  to  the  West  Wind,"  "  To  a  Sky-lark,"  "Adonais,"  "Swiftly  Walk 
Over  the  Western  Wave."  Keats:  "Ode  to  a  Nightingale,"  "Ode  to  a 
Grecian  Urn,"  "Eve  of  St.  Agnes,"  "La  Belle  Dame  Sans  Merci," 
sonnet  on  Chapman's  Homer.  Lamb:  "A  Dissertation  on  Roast  Pig," 
"Mackery  End,"  "Christ's  Hospital,"  "The  Superannuated  Man," 
"Old  China,"  "Dream  Children."  De  Quincey:  "Revolt  of  a  Tartar 
Tribe"  (or  "The  English  Mail-Coach"),  a  portion  of  the  "Confes- 
sions," the  "Dream  Fugue." 

Editions:  "The  Ancient  Mariner"  can  be  had  in  the  Riverside 
Literature  series,  and  many  other  good  school  editions.  The  best 
selection  of  Wordsworth's  poetry  is  that  edited  by  Matthew  Arnold,  in 
the  Golden  Treasury  series  (Macmillan).  A  cheaper  volume,  also 
good,  is  included  in  Cassell's  National  Library.  Selections  from 
Shelley,  from  Byron,  and  from  Keats  exist  in  Cassell's  Library,  and 
in  the  Golden  Treasury  series.  Southey 's  "Life  of  Nelson"  exists  in 
Morley's  Universal  Library,  and  many  school  editions.  "Old  China" 
and  eight  other  Elia  essays  and  Lamb's  "Tales  from  Shakespeare," 
are  to  be  had  in  the  Riverside  Literature  series;  selected  essays  also 
in  the  Camelot  series.  For  the  study  of  De  Quincey,  the  comprehensive 
volume  of  selections  by  M.  H.  Turk,  in  the  Athenaeum  Press  series 
(Ginn)  is  recommended.  Volume  LXIX  of  Cassell's  National  Li- 
brary contains  "The  English  Mail-Coach"  and  "Murder  as  a  Fine 
Art."  "The  Revolt  of  a  Tartar  Tribe,"  edited  by  C.  W.  French,  is 
published  by  Scott,  Foresman;  other  school  editions  are  numerous. 

Biography  and  Criticism:  For  advanced  biographical  study,  the 
English  Men  of  Letters  series  will  furnish  abundant  material.  Essays 
upon  Coleridge,  Wordsworth,  and  Keats  may  be  found  in  Lowell's 
works.  Matthew  Arnold's  "Essays  in  Criticism"  contain  valuable 
studies  of  Wordsworth,  Byron,  Shelley,  and  Keats.  Many  of  Lamb's 
essays  have  an  autobiographic  interest:  "The  Old  Benchers  of  the 
Inner  Temple,"  "  Christ's  Hospital  Five  and  Thirty  Years  Ago"  (with 
its  picture  of  Coleridge's  boyhood),  "The  South  Sea  House,"  "Blakes- 


Reading  Guide  287 

more,"  and  "Mackery  End"  all  deal  with  places  associated  with  Lamb's 
history;  "Old  China,"  "  Dream  Children,"  and  "The  Superannuated 
Man"  are  more  directly  personal.  For  De  Quincey's  biography,  his 
"Autobiographic  Sketches,"  and  the  "Confessions  of  an  Opium-Eater" 
are  of  fundamental  intererf 


CHAPTER  XI  v 

THE   NINETEENTH   CENTURY:  THE  VICTORIAN 

ERA 

I.    INTRODUCTION 

Social  Changes  and  Their  Effect  Upon  Literature. — Never 
before,  not  even  in  the  troubled  seventeenth  century,  have 
there  been  such  rapid  and  sweeping  changes  in  the  society 
of  the  English-speaking  races  as  have  taken  place  since 
the  beginning  of  the  long  reign  of  Victoria  (1837-1901). 
Among  the  many  circumstances  making  for  change  the  chief 
one  has  been  the  growth  of  democracy.  The  Reform  bill  of 
1832  placed  the  political  power  of  England  in  the  hands  of 
the  middle  class,  and  since  that  date  the  ballot  has  been 
gradually  extended  to  the  working  classes.  With  the  growth 
of  democracy  has  gone  the  spread  of  popular  education,  and 
a  great  increase  in  the  number  of  readers  of  books.  Lit- 
erature has  become  in  consequence  more  democratic.  It 
has  attempted  more  and  more  to  reach  out  to  all  manner 
of  men,  to  move,  instruct,  and  inspire  them.  The  great 
change  from  hand-labor  to  machine-labor,  which  began  in 
the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  has  continued 
throughout  the  nineteenth,  has  kept  the  economic  basis  of 
society  unsettled.  Labor  troubles  have  been  frequent.  Social 
unrest,  and  the  demand  for  social  justice,  have  appeared  in 
the  work  of  nearly  all  the  great  writers  of  the  time.  The 
growth  of  manufacture  and  commerce  has  brought  a  great 
increase  of  wealth,  and  added  greatly  to  the  comfort  and 
luxury  of  living;  but  it  has  also  exposed  men  to  the  danger 
of  losing  themselves  in  these  external  things,  at  the  expense 
of  the  inner  life.  Against  this  danger  the  prophets  and 
preachers  of  the  time  have  striven  with  all  the  earnestness 
that  is  in  them. 

388 


Introduction  289 

During  the  nineteenth  century  the  means  of  communica- 
tion between  distant  places  have  been  vastly  increased.  In 
18.19  tne  nrst  steamship  crossed  the  Atlantic;  in  1830  the 
first  railroad  was  opened,  between  Liverpool  and  Manchester ; 
in  1838  the  electric  telegraph  was  introduced  into  England, 
and  twenty  years  later  the  first  Atlantic  cable  was  laid.  By 
subsequent  inventions  and  improvements,  town  has  been 
knit  to  town,  county  to  county,  nation  to  nation.  The  tele- 
graph and  the  modem  printing  press  have  laid  the  news  of 
the  world  day  by  day  before  even  the  humblest  reader. 
Literature,  in  consequence,  has  become  broader  in  its  inter- 
ests. A  community  of  ideas  has  been  established  throughout 
the  civilized  world ;  sympathy  with  life  in  all  its  forms  has 
been  widened.  Historical  science  has  brought,  as  never  be- 
fore, the  buried  past  before  our  eyes,  and  writers  have  pre- 
sented the  past  with  a  truthfulness  not  possible  in  former 
times.  The  mental  sciences  have  led  to  a  deeper  study  of 
character,  a  closer  analysis  of  human  motives,  a  broader  in- 
terest in  all  kinds  and  types  of  human  life.  Novelists  and 
poets  have  vied  with  each  other  in  throwing  light  upon  the 
secret  places  of  man's  soul. 

The  Growth  of  Science. — Another  great  cause  of  change 
and  unrest  has  been  the  growth  of  science,  which  has  made 
more  gigantic  strides  in  this  age  than  in  all  the  past  history 
of  the  race.  Especially  the  world-shaking  doctrine  of  evolu- 
tion, dating  from  the  publication  of  Darwin's  Origin  of 
Species  in  1859,  has  given  men  a  new  idea  of  their  own 
origin,  of  the  prehistoric  past  of  the  human  race.  In  so  do- 
ing it  has  unsettled  many  old  beliefs.  It  has  brought  "ob- 
stinate questionings"  concerning  fife  and  death,  and  has  led 
many  men,  against  their  wills,  into  religious  doubt.  But 
here  again  there  have  been  voices  lifted  up  to  declare  anew 
the  truths  of  religion,  and  to  interpret  the  teachings  of  science 
in  a  spiritual  sense. 

The  "  Time-Spirit"  in  the  Great  Victorian  Writers. — Each  of 
the  writers  whom  we  are  about  to  study  illustrates  some  phase 
of  the  "time-spirit"  which  we  have  tried  briefly  to  describe. 
Macaulay  made  it  his  life-work  to  put  his  vast  stores  of  knowl- 
edge into  a  form  easy  for  common  men  to   understand. 


290  The  Nineteenth  Century 

Carlyle's.  rugged  figure  stands  as  a  protest  against  the  self- 
satisfied,  external  view  of  life  to  which  an  age  of  com- 
merce and  of  mechanical  science  is  prone.  He  preaches  the 
dignity  of  the  individual  as  opposed  to  the  crowd ;  he  utters 
fierce  warnings  against  the  levelling  process  of  democracy. 
Tennyson  took  the  facts  of  natural  science,  and  showed 
the  poetry  hidden  in  them ;  he  helped  to  fight  the  battle  of 
faith  against  doubt,  and  to  break  down  the  opposition  be- 
tween science  and  religion.  Browning,  and  the  great  nov- 
elists, Dickens,  Thackeray,  and  George  Eliot,  studied  the  souls 
of  men  as  they  reveal  themselves  in  the  actual  life  about  us ; 
or  summoned  up  men  and  women  from  the  past  to  reveal 
their  inmost  natures.  Arnold,  in  the  poetry  of  his  youth, 
voiced  the  unrest,  despondency,  and  doubt  which  afflicted 
so  many  sensitive  souls  in  this  age  of  change ;  his  later  life  he 
spent  in  preaching  to  Englishmen  the  necessity  of  being  alert 
to  new  ideas.  Ruskin  waged  unending  war  against  the  vul- 
garity and  ugliness  which  he  believed  to  be  an  outgrowth  of 
the  commercial  basis  of  modern  life,  and  sought  earnestly 
for  some  better  foundation  upon  which  might  be  built  the 
society  of  the  future. 


II.   THOMAS   BABINGTON  MACAULAY   (1800-1859) 

Life  of  Macaulay. — Thomas  Babington  Macaulay  was 
born  in  1800  at  Rothley  Temple  in  Leicestershire.  His 
father,  Zachary  Taylor,  was  an  anti-slavery  reformer,  of  a 
family  of  Scotch  Presbyterians,  many  of  whom  had  been 
preachers.  His  mother  was  of  Quaker  descent,  and  a  woman 
of  vigorous  intelligence.  Many  anecdotes  are  related  of  the 
boy  Macaulay's  startling  precocity.  He  made  at  seven  a 
"compendium  of  universal  history";  at  eight  he  knew  Scott's 
Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel  by  heart,  and  himself  composed 
several  long  epic  poems  in  imitation  of  it.  Histories,  odes, 
and  hymns  flowed  with  astonishing  facility  from  his  boyish 
pen.  Throughout  life  he  was  a  prodigious  reader,  and  his 
memory,  surprising  to  start  with,  became  by  cultivation  one 
of  the  most  marvellous  on  record.    He  declared  that  if  every 


Thomas  Babington  Macaulay  291 

copy  of  Paradise  Lost  or  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  were  de- 
stroyed, he  would  be  able  to  replace  them  from  memory. 

At  Cambridge,  whither  he  went  at  nineteen,  he  took  a  prom- 
inent part  in  the  excited  discussion  which  was  then  going  on 
all  over  England  concerning  the  reform  of  the  suffrage  laws. 
He  was  then,  as  afterward,  a  Whig;  that  is  to  say,  he  believed 
in  the  gradual  extension  of  liberty,  but  distrusted  violent 
and  revolutionary  methods.  Before  leaving  college,  he  be- 
gan writing  for  the  reviews.  In  1825  his  essay  on  Milton 
appeared  in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  This  essay  made  him 
instantly  famous.  Even  the  'potentates  of  the  critical  world, 
such  as  Jeffrey,  the  much-feared  editor  of  the  periodical  in 
which  the  "Milton"  appeared,  wondered  where  the  brilliant 
newcomer  had  "picked  up  that  style." 

From  this  time  on  Macaulay's  career  was  one  of  uninter- 
rupted success,  both  in  literature  and  politics.  In  1830  he 
entered  Parliament,  in  time  to  take  a  prominent  part  in  the 
passage  of  the  Reform  bill.  Four  years  later  he  went  to 
India,  as  legal  adviser  to  the  Supreme  Council.  He  found 
time  from  his  legal  duties  to  write  the  essay  on  Bacon;  the 
essays  on  Machiavelli,  Dryden,  Byron,  and  Dr.  Johnson  had 
already  appeared.  He  returned  in  1838,  with  a  comfortable 
fortune  saved  from  his  salary,  to  play  once  more  a  leading 
role  in  the  Whig  party.  He  was  made  Secretary  of  War  and 
a  member  of  the  Privy  Council.  During  these  years  of 
active  political  life  he  wrote  several  of  his  most  famous  es- 
says, notably  those  on  Addison  and  on  Sir  William  Temple, 
and  the  splendid  ones  on  the  Indian  pro-consuls,  Clive  and 
Warren  Hastings,  the  materials  for  which  he  had  gathered 
during  his  stay  in  the  east. 

In  1847  he  published  his  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome,  dignified 
and  vigorous  celebrations,  in  ballad  verse,  of  the  antique 
civic  virtues,  as  shown  in  Horatius,  Virginius,  and  other  Ro- 
man worthies.  The  next  year,  after  long  delay,  he  began  to 
realize  the  dream  of  his  life,  in  the  publication  of  the  first 
part  of  his  History  of  England.  This  was  instantly  and  im- 
mensely popular ;  and  the  remainder  of  the  work  which  he 
lived  to  complete  increased  his  success.  The  History  was 
translated  into  most  of  the  languages  of  Europe,  and  at  home 


292  .  The  Nineteenth  Century 

took  a  permanent  place  as  a  classic  among  historical  writings. 
In  1857  he  was  made  a  peer  of  the  realm,  with  the  title  of 
Baron  Macaulay  of  Rothley.  He  died  of  heart  disease,  at 
Holly  Lodge,  Kensington,  in  1859,  and  was  buried  in  the 
Poet's  Corner  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

Character  of  Macaulay. — Macaulay's  nature  was  practical 
and  unromantic.  Carlyle,  who  was  in  nearly  all  respects 
his  opposite,  once  observed  Macaulay's  face  in  repose,  as 
he  was  turning  the  pages  of  a  book.  "I  noticed,"  he  says, 
"  the.  homely  Norse  features  that  you  find  everywhere  in 
the  Western  Isles,  and  I  thought  to  myself,  'Well,  any  one 
can  see  that  you  are  an  honest,  good  sort  of  fellow,  made 
out  of  oatmeal!'  "  The  biography  of  Macaulay  written 
by  his  nephew  Trevelyan,  shows  him  to  have  been,  in  his 
private  life,  even  more  "honest  and  good"  than  Carlyle 
knew.  When  his  father's  affairs,  owing  to  the  old  reform- 
er's unworldliness,  fell  into  ruin,  Macaulay,  then  a  very 
young  man,  quietly  shouldered  the  burden  of  debt,  and  set 
about  retrieving  the  family  fortunes.  Many  of  his  own 
hopes  were  thus  frustrated,  but  he  took  up  the  load  of  respon- 
sibility with  the  sunniest  radiance,  with  the  most  contagious 
gladness  and  high  spirits.  He  made  those  about  him  doubt 
"whether  it  ever  crossed  his  mind  that  to  live  wholly  for  others 
was  a  sacrifice  at  all."  His  loyalty  to  his  father  led  him 
to  break  with  his  party  on  an  anti-slavery  bill  which  was  too 
moderate  to  suit  the  old  enthusiasist's  views.  In  his  public 
career  he  more  than  once  gave  evidence  of  high  and  unselfish 
virtue.  He  voted  for  a  reform  of  the  bankruptcy  laws, 
though  the  reform  included  the  suppression  of  his  own  Com- 
missionership,  and  reduced  him  to  such  straits  that  he  was 
forced  to  sell  the  gold  medals  he  had  won  at  college.  Plainly, 
he  had  in  him  a  strain  of  heroism  like  that  of  the  Roman 
worthies  of  his  "Lays";  though  his  prosperous  life  kept  it 
for  the  most  part  hidden. 

Macaulay  as  Orator  and  Essayist. — Gladstone  has  told  us 
that  an  announcement  of  Macaulay's  intention  to  speak 
in  Parliament  was  "like  a  trumpet  call  to  fill  the  benches" 
His  powers  as  an  orator  were  superb,  and  they  furnish  a  key 
to  his  fascination  as  a  writer.    In  a  speech  the  meaning 


Thomas  Babington  Macaulay  293 

must  be  so  clearly  stated,  so  skilfully  emphasized,  that  mis- 
understanding shall  be  impossible,  and  the  attention  of  the 
audience  must  be  continually  kept  awake  by  strong  contrasts 
and  striking  figures  of  speech.  In  all  these  respects  Ma- 
caulay's  essays  resemble  good  oratory.  Probably  no  writer 
has  ever  been  more  skilful  than  Macaulay  in  making  his 
whole  meaning  clear;  none  more  successful  in  keeping  the 
reader's  attention  alert,  and  his  dramatic  sense  excited. 
He  is  always  vivacious,  loud,  and  positive,  never  in  doubt, 
and  never  at  a  loss.  These  qualities  served  him  well  in  his 
work  of  popularizing  knowledge.  From  the  stores  of  his 
capacious  memory,  he  presented  in  lucid  and  entertaining 
form  a  great  mass  of  fact  and  opinion,  the  educative  power 
of  which  was  and  still  continues  to  be  very  great. 

The  best  of  the  essays  are  those  in  which  the  author  paints 
us  the  picture  of  an  era,  of  a  social  group,  or  of  a  single  person, 
addressing  his  story  more  to  the  eye  than  to  the  mind.  In 
dealing  with  the  great  facts  of  the  inner  life  Macaulay  is  often 
weak.  The  essay  on  Bacon,  for  instance,  is  an  attack  upon 
all  higher  speculations ;  Bacon  as  a  master  of  pure  thought 
is  belittled,  and  the  real  passion  of  Bacon's  life,  philos- 
ophy, is  held  up  to  ridicule.  The  essay  on  Dr.  Johnson  gives 
us  a  very  wonderful  picture  of  the  old  doctor's  appearance, 
manners,  and  surroundings,  but  we  get  from  it  no  insight 
into  his  deeper  nature.  Macaulay  is  also  weak  in  literary 
criticism,  as  he  himself,  always  frank  and  modest,  was  the 
first  to  declare.  "I  am  not  successful,"  he  said,  "in  analyz- 
ing the  works  of  genius.  I  never  have  written  a  page  of 
criticism  on  poetry  or  the  fine  arts  which  I  would  not  burn 
if  I  had  the  power."  In  the  essay  on  Milton,  which  made 
him  famous,  he  is  soon  drawn  aside  from  his  real  subject 
into  a  long  and  heated  defence  of  the  Puritan  party,  with  one 
eye  always  upon  the  political  conditions  of  his  own  time. 
He  is  at  his  best  in  historical  portraiture,  and  in  this  field  his 
essays  are  incomparable.  He  was  most  at  home  in  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries.  In  his  series  of  brilliant 
studies  on"  this  period  he  did  for  it,  in  the  prose  essay,  almost 
as  much  as  Shakespeare  did  for  the  fifteenth  century  in  his 
historical  plays. 


294  The  Nineteenth  Century 

Macaulay  as  Historian. — In  his  History  he  carried  these 
talents  into  a  larger  field,  and  won  even  a  more  striking  suc- 
cess. His  aim  was  to  write  a  history  of  England  from  the 
accession  of  James  II  to  the  end  of  George  IV's  reign,  in 
a  manner  so  concrete,  picturesque,  and  dramatic,  that  his 
narrative  of  actual  events  should  have  the  fascination  of 
romance,  or,  as  he  himself  put  the  case,  that  it  should  have 
the  power  "to  supersede  the  last  fashionable  novel  upon  the 
dressing-table  of  young  ladies."  The  portion  of  the  story 
which  he  lived  to  complete  is,  in  fact,  presented  with  a  wealth 
of  detail  concerning  particular  persons,  places,  and  events, 
such  as  a  writer  of  fiction  uses  to  embody  the  creations  of 
his  fancy.  But  all  this  detail  is  wonderfully  merged  together, 
and  the  whole  effect  is  that  of  a  canvas  covered  with  lumi- 
nous pictures,  which  change  before  our  eyes  into  new  group- 
ings, and  give  place  to  other  spectacles,  as  in  a  magic  diorama. 
In  the  art  of  story-telling,  of  chaining  the  reader's  interest 
with  the  exciting  sweep  of  events,  Macaulay  stands  first 
among  English  historians.  He  cares  little  for  underlying 
causes.  Not  why,  but  how  things  happened,  is  his  concern. 
But  he  gives  us  the  story  itself  with  the  skill  of  a  great  novel- 
ist, and  in  as  great  fulness.  The  five  volumes  which  he  com- 
pleted cover  only  fifteen  years.  To  have  covered  the  whole 
period  which  he  at  first  intended,  would  have  filled  fifty 
volumes  and — even  at  the  rapid  rate  at  which  he  worked — 
would  have  taken  a  century  and  a  half  in  the  writing. 

Macaulay's  Material  View  of  Life. — Macaulay's  view  of 
life  is  extremely  practical.  He  wrote  at  a  time  when  men 
were  inclined  to  exchange  the  longings  and  aspirations  of 
the  Romantic  era  for  a  satisfied  acceptance  of  the  benefits 
which  commerce,  liberal  government,  and  the  mechanical 
sciences  were  bringing  to  English  life.  "A  half-acre  in 
Middlesex,"  he  says,  "is  better  than  a  peerage  in  Utopia." 
Of  the  Crystal  Palace  exhibition,  one  of  those  great  in- 
dustrial fairs  upon  which  this  century  has  lavished  so  much 
effort,  he  can  hardly  find  words  to  express  his  admira- 
tion. The  spread  of  comfort  and  of  material  prosperity, 
constantly  arouses  him  to  eloquence.  He  flattered  his  age 
by  his  satisfaction  with  its  practical  achievements.    But 


Thomas  Carlyle  295 

meanwhile  another  voice  was  raised  in  fierce  protest  and 
warning.  Thomas  Carlyle,  son  of  one  of  "the  fighting 
masons  of  Ecclefechan,"  arose  to  scourge  and  lament  over 
the  age  like  a  prophet  of  old  Israel,  bidding  men  ponder  what 
their  boasted  progress  was  progress  toward,  and  whether, 
in  their  zeal  for  material  improvements,  they  were  not  per- 
chance bowing  down  to  heathen  idols,  forgetting  the  God  of 
the  spirit. 

III.   THOMAS   CARLYLE    (1795-1881) 

Carlyle's  Early  Life. — Thomas  Carlyle  was  born  in  1795, 
at  Ecclefechan,  a  village  of  the  Scotch  Lowlands.  His 
father  was  a  man  of  strong  character,  and  of  a  picturesque 
and  rugged  speech  to  which  Carlyle  traced  his  own  literary 
gift.  His  peasant  mother  learned  to  write  in  order  to  com- 
municate with  her  son  in  absence,  and  followed  his  career  with 
more  than  a  mother's  devotion.  Though  the  family  was  very 
poor,  Carlyle  received  an  excellent  schooling.  At  fourteen  he 
walked  the  eighty  miles  from  his  native  village  to  Edinburgh, 
and  entered  the  university,  to  prepare  himself  for  the  ministry. 
After  graduation,  however,  he  renounced  the  church  career, 
to  his  father's  deep  disappointment,  and  determined  to  be 
"a  writer  of  books."  He  lived  for  a  number  of  years  in  or 
near  Edinburgh,  earning  a  living  as  school  teacher,  private 
tutor,  and  afterwards  as  a  writer  for  the  magazines. 

In  these  early  days  of  privation  and  loneliness,  with  dys- 
pepsia '  gnawing  like  a  rat  at  the  pit  of  his  stomach,'  he  fought 
the  battle  which  he  afterward  described  in  Sartor  Resartus. 
The  "  Everlasting  No,"  the  voice  of  unfaith  denying  God  and 
the  worth  of  life,  he  put  from  him ;  the  "  Everlasting  Yea,"  the 
assurance  that  life  could  be  made  divine  through  labor  and 
courage,  he  accepted  once  for  all.  The  climax  of  this 
struggle,  he  has  told  us,  came  one  day  in  Leith  Walk,  as  he 
was  going  down  to  bathe  in  the  sea,  after  three  weeks  of  total 
sleeplessness.  The  " Everlasting  Yea"  sounding  suddenly  in 
the  depths  of  his  despairing  soul,  made  him  "strong,  of  un- 
known strength,  a  spirit,  almost  a  god." 

At  twenty-five  he  began  the  study  of  German,  and  writes 


296  The  Nineteenth  Century 

a  friend  about  "the  new  heaven  and  new  earth"  which 
German  literature  has  revealed  to  him.  His  Life  of  Schil- 
ler and  his  translation  of  Goethe's  Wilhelm  Meister  got  him 
a  hearing  with  the  publishers;  but  his  earnings  remained 
extremely  small.  In  1826  he  married  Jane  Baillie  Welsh, 
a  woman  of  genius  hardly  inferior  to  his  own,  a  descendant 
on  her  father's  side  from  the  religious  reformer,  John  Knox, 
on  her  mother's  from  the  patriot,  William  Wallace.  After 
marriage,  the  young  pair  went  to  live  at  Craigenputtoch, 
a  farm-house  amid  miles  of  high  dreary  moor,  in  a  "soli- 
tude almost  druidical."  Here  Carlyle  passed  six  years 
(1 828-1 834).  During  this  time  he  produced  Sartor  re- 
sartus"  and  wrote  several  masterly  essays,  notably  those 
on  Burns  and  on  Dr.  Johnson.  But  the  public  would  have 
none  of  him.  The  wonderful  essay  on  Burns,  which  has 
been  called  "the  very  voice  of  Scotland,  expressive  of  all 
her  passionate  love  and  tragic  sorrow  for  her  darling  son," 
was  saved  from  editorial  mutilation  only  by  the  author's 
angry  protest ;  and  the  still  more  wonderful  Sartor  Resartus 
fell,  as  it  seemed,  dead  from  the  press. 

Carlyle  and  Emerson. — One  August  day  in  1833,  as  Car- 
lyle sat  despondent,  a  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the 
lonely  house,  and  a  young  American  alighted.  It  was 
Emerson,  come  over-seas  in  search  of  a  wise  man — the  first 
human  being,  said  Mrs.  Carlyle,  who  had  visited  those 
moors  on  such  an  errand  since  Noah's  flood.  The  Car- 
lyles  found  Emerson  "one  of  the  most  lovable  creatures  we 
have  ever  looked  upon."  He  brought  with  him  the  wel- 
come news  that  Carlyle's  writings  had  already  reached  Amer- 
ica, and  had  found  there  the  warm  recognition  which  the 
British  public  refused  to  give  them.  During  the  years  which 
followed,  Emerson  helped  in  many  practical  ways  to  further 
Carlyle's  interests  in  America,  and,  in  spite  of  their  differen- 
ces of  character ,  their  friendship  continued  throughout  life. 

Carlyle  in  London;  Later  Life. — In  1834,  Carlyle  decided 
to  seek  his  fortune  in  London.  He  had  already  had  a 
glimpse  of  the  great  metropolis,  and  had  written,  "  It  is  like 
the  heart  of  all  the  universe,  and  the  flood  of  human  effort 
rolls  out  of  it  and  into  it  with  a  violence  that  almost  appalls 


THOMAS   CARLYLE 
From  a  painting  by  Whistler 


298  The  Nineteenth  Century 

one's  very  senses."  He  settled  with  his  wife  in  the  suburb 
of  Chelsea,  taking  the  house  in  Cheyne  Row  where  he  was 
to  spend  the  long  remainder  of  his  life.  Of  the  new  home  he 
wrote  to  his  mother:  "We  he  safe  at  a  bend  of  the  river,  away 
from  all  the  great  roads,  have  air  and  quiet  hardly  inferior 
to  Craigenputtock,  an  outlook  from  the  back  windows  into 
mere  leafy  regions  with  here  and  there  a  red  high-peaked 
old  roof  looking  through;  and  see  nothing  of  London,  ex- 
cept by  day  the  summits  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  and  West- 
minster Abbey,  and  by  night  the  gleam  of  the  great  Babylon 
affronting  the  peaceful  skies."  Here  Carlyle  gathered  about 
him  all  that  was  best  in  the  new  intellectual  life  now  stirring 
in  the  nation — John  Stuart  Mill,  the  political  economist ;  the 
youthful  Tennyson,  who  had  published  two  slender  volumes, 
but  was  as  yet  unknown  to  fame;  Leigh  Hunt,  the  essayist 
and  friend  of  Keats;  Browning,  whose  star  had  not  yet 
risen,  though  he  had  already  done  some  of  his  most  won- 
derful work;  Dickens,  in  the  full  tide  of  his  fame;  and 
Ruskin,  who  was  to  be  Carlyle's  greatest  disciple. 

In  1837  Carlyle  published  his  French  Revolution.  With 
this  book  he  at  last  gained  the  ear  of  the  public,  and  from 
this  time  on  his  reputation  grew  apace.  For  more  than 
thirty  years  after  this,  he  stood  as  teacher  and  preacher  to 
the  people  of  England  and  America,  thundering  above  them 
wrath,  warning,  and  exhortation.  The  chief  works  of 
this  long  period  were  Chartism  (1839),  an  anti-democratic 
deliverance  on  the  labor  troubles  then  agitating  England; 
Heroes  and  Hero-Worship  (1841),  a  great  sermon  on  vener- 
ation, calling  upon  the  world  to  love,  honor,  and  submit 
in  childlike  obedience  to  its  great  men,  whether  they  appear 
as  warrior,  poet,  or  priest;  Cromwell  (1850),  Latter-Day 
Pamphlets,  the  Life  of  John  Sterling  (185 1),  a  masterpiece  of 
intimate  biography,  in  which  he  enshrined  the  memory  of  a 
friend  in  a  work  as  noble  in  its  kind  as  that  which  Milton 
had  dedicated  to  Henry  King,  or  Shelley  to  Keats.  His 
last  work  of  importance  was  the  History  of  Friedrich  II 
(1858-1865),  a  vast  picture  of  the  life  and  times  of  the 
founder  of  the  Prussian  empire. 

From  1865  until  his  death  in  1881,  the  veneration  in  which 


Thomas  Carlyle  299 

Carlyle's  name  was  held  steadily  increased.  In  1866  he 
was  installed  as  Lord  Rector  of  his  own  University  of  Edin- 
burgh, having  been  elected  by  the  students  to  succeed  Glad- 
stone. The  day  of  his  installation  was  the  proudest  of  his 
life.  Youths  and  gray-haired  scholars  hung  upon  the  calm 
and  noble  words  of  the  old  seer  "like  children  held  by  a  tale 
of  fairyland";  and  when  his  address  was  concluded,  the 
students  crowded  about  him,  some  shedding  tears.  In  the 
same  month  his  wife  died.  Carlyle  never  recovered  from 
the  shock  and  grief  of  her  death.  On  the  bright  shores  of 
the  Mediterranean,  and  later  in  his  desolate  house  at  Chelsea, 
he  wrote  his  "Reminiscences,"  intended  chiefly  as  a  memoir 
of  his  lost  wife.  As  he  lay  upon  his  death-bed  he  was  heard 
to  murmur  "Honesty,  honesty";  the  word  which  gives  the 
keynote  of  his  teaching  and  of  his  life. 

Carlyle's  Personality. — Carlyle  had  a  most  caustic  tongue, 
and  hardly  any  even  of  his  best  friends  escaped  from  the 
biting  humor  of  it.  As  he  grew  older,  his  petulance  grew 
upon  him,  and  the  lightning  strokes  of  his  wit  and  anger 
spared  neither  friend  nor  foe.  Yet  underneath  this  bitter 
surface  was  a  nature  of  the  deepest  tenderness.  The  first 
volume  of  his  French  Revolution,  which  he  had  lent  to  John 
Stuart  Mill  to  read,  was  accidentally  destroyed.  The  labor 
of  rewriting  it  was  so  enormous  as  at  first  entirely  to  crush 
his  courage.  Yet  when  Mill  had  left  the  room,  after  telling 
him  and  his  wife  of  the  loss,  all  that  Carlyle  said  was,  "Poor 
Mill !  We  shall  have  to  conceal  from  him  how  very  serious  this 
is  to  us."  The  last  letters  written  to  him  by  his  friend  Sterling 
he  speaks  of  as  "brief,  stern,  loving,  altogether  noble,  never 
to  be  forgotten  in  this  world,"  and  some  verses  sent  him  from 
the  same  hand,  he  refers  to  as  "verses  written  for  myself 
alone,  as  in  star-fire  and  immortal  tears."  Perhaps  no- 
where does  the  deep  tenderness  of  his  rugged,  volcanic  nature 
appear  so  exquisitely  as  in  the  sentences  written  about  his 
mother  after  he  had  been  called  to  her  death-bed  in  1853. 
"It  was  my  mother  and  not  my  mother.  The  last  pale  rim 
or  sickle  of  the  moon  which  had  once  been  full,  sinking  in 
the  dark  seas."  His  rugged,  deeply-chiselled  features  bore 
always  the  marks  of  spiritual  pain.     In  moments  of  excite- 


300  The  Nineteenth  Century 

ment  and  eloquence  his  eye,  we  are  told,  would  "beat  like 
a  pulse,"  under  his  abrupt,  cliff-like  forehead  and  bushy 
brows.  But  there  was  in  him,  along  with  all  that  is  fiercely 
earnest,  with  much  that  is  sardonic  and  grim,  a  spring  of 
genuine  and  ever-flowing  fun.  In  general  temper  he  reminds 
us,  as  has  been  often  said,  of  some  old  Hebrew  prophet, 
Isaiah  or  Jeremiah;  but  he  could  also  be  genial,  graceful, 
full  of  sly,  delicious  humor.  It  was  this  mingling  of  rude 
strength  with  tenderness  and  humor  that  Emerson  probably 
had  in  mind  when  he  described  Carlyle  quaintly  as  "a  trip- 
hammer with  an  ^olian  attachment." 

Underlying  Spirit  of  Carlyle's  Work. — The  actual  doctrines 
which  Carlyle  preached  with  such  intensity — his  "  Gospel  of 
Work,"  his  political  dogma  of  "Government  by  the  Best" 
(instead  of  "government  by  the  worst,"  as  he  held  democ- 
racy to  be),  and  all  the  other  war-cries  of  his  unending 
battle  with  his  age — are  of  less  moment  than  the  spirit  which 
underlies  his  writing.  This  spirit  may  be  defined  as  an  in- 
tense moral  indignation  against  whatever  is  weak,  or  false, 
or  mechanical ;  an  intense  moral  enthusiasm  for  whatever  is 
sincere  and  heroically  forceful.  From  this  point  of  view  his 
two  typical  books  are  Sartor  Resartus  and  Heroes  and  Hero- 
Worship.  The  first  is  an  attack  upon  all  those  social  shams 
and  mechanisms  which  defeat  the  sincerity  of  life ;  the  second 
is  a  paean  of  praise  for  those  chosen  heroic  spirits  who  join 
earnestness  with  power.  Sartor  Resartus  is  pre-eminent 
in  philosophic  interest  among  all  his  books.  It  is  also  ex- 
tremely ingenious  in  plan,  and  is  written  with  a  wonderful 
mingling  of  wild  sardonic  humor,  keen  pathos,  and  an  elo- 
quence and  elevation  almost  biblical. 

"  Sartor  Resartus. ' ' — ' '  Sartor  Resartus ' '  means  ' '  the 
tailor  re-tailored,"  and  its  theme  is  clothes.  It  purports  to 
be  the  fragment  of  a  great  "Clothes-philosophy,"  the  life- 
work  of  an  eccentric  German  scholar  and  recluse,  Herr 
Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh,  professor  of  Knowledge-in-general 
at  the  university  of  None-knows-where.  This  philosophy 
has  been  left  in  wild  confusion,  scribbled  on  scattered  leaves, 
and  stuffed  helter-skelter  into  twelve  bags  signed  with  the 
twelve  signs  of  the  Zodiac.     Carlyle  represents  himself  merely 


Thomas  Carlyle  301 

as  editor  and  commentator  of  this  weltering  mass  of  words, 
endeavoring  desperately  to  extract  order  out  of  chaos,  and 
to  lighten  a  little,  with  much  head-shaking  and  consternation, 
the  dark  abysses  of  the  German  professor's  thought.  This 
whimsical  fancy  of  Carlyle's  enables  him  to  be  both  author 
and  commentator;  to  state  astounding  paradoxes  and  then 
to  shrug  his  shoulders  in  sign  of  his  own  irresponsibility; 
to  take  the  side  of  his  opponents  against  what  he,  as  a  well- 
regulated  editor,  pretends  to  find  extravagant  and  crazy 
doctrine,  but  what  is  really  his  own  heart's  belief. 

The  book  has  a  two-fold  meaning.  In  the  first  place,  it 
is  a  veiled  attack  upon  the  shams  and  pretences  of  society, 
upon  hollow  rank,  hollow  officialism,  hollow  custom,  out  of 
which  life  and  usefulness  have  departed.  These  are,  Car- 
lyle hints,  the  fantastic,  outworn  garments  which  stifle  the 
breath  and  health  of  the  social  body.  Under  the  shield  of 
this  novel  idea,  he  attacks  the  mechanical  view  of  life, 
mechanical  education,  mechanical  government,  mechanical 
religion;  and  he  preaches,  now  with  drollery  and  paradox, 
now  with  fiery  earnestness,  a  return  to  sincerity  in  all 
things.  In  the  second  place,  Carlyle  applies  the  Clothes- 
philosophy  to  the  universe  at  large ;  showing  that  as  clothes 
hide  the  real  man,  and  as  custom  and  convention  hide  real 
society,  so  Time  and  Space  and  all  created  things  hide  the 
real  spiritual  nature  of  the  universe. 

Carlyle  *s  Style. — The  pretence  that  he  was  translating 
from  the  German  gave  Carlyle  an  excuse  for  developing 
in  Sartor  Resartus  a  style  of  expression  full  of  un-English 
idiom,  of  violent  inversions,  startling  pauses  and  sharp  turns 
— a  style  which  he  employed  to  rouse  the  attention  of  his 
reader  as  by  a  series  of  electric  shocks.  He  himself  refers 
humorously  to  this  odd  new  use  of  language,  as  a  "rumfus- 
tianish  roly-poly  growlery  of  style,"  and  says  that  his  mood 
in  evolving  it,  was  that  of  ."a  half- reckless  casting  of  the 
brush,  with  its  many  frustrated  colors,  upon  the  Canvas." 
However  recklessly  or  humorously  evolved,  the  style  contin- 
ued to  be  his  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  It  has  been  said 
that  "henceforth  he  wrote  English  no  more,  but  'Car- 
lylese.' " 


302  The  Nineteenth  Century 

The  "  French  Revolution." — Sartor  Resartus  proved  Car- 
lyle  to  be  a  great  literary  artist.  This  title  was  broadened 
and  confirmed  by  his  historical  masterpiece,  The  French 
Revolution.  Here  we  see  to  best  advantage  what  Emerson 
calls  the  "stereoscopic  imagination"  of  Carry le,  which  de- 
taches the  figures  from  the  background,  brings  them,  as  it 
were,  close  to  our  eye,  and  gives  them  startling  vividness. 
The  stupid,  patient  king,  the  "lion  Mirabeau,"  the  "sea- 
green  incorruptible  Robespierre,"  Marat,  the  "large-headed 
dwarfish  individual  of  smoke-bleared  aspect," — not  only 
these  chief  figures,  but  the  minor  ones,  a  multitude  of  them, 
stand  out  in  the  reader's  memory  unforgettably.  The  larger 
pictures  are  equally  admirable ;  the  Storming  of  the  Bastille, 
the  Feast  of  Pikes,  the  long-drawn  agony  of  the  Night  of 
Spurs.  Above  all,  the  unity  and  sweep  of  the  story,  re- 
minding us  of  a  play  of  Shakespeare  or  of  ^schylus,  only 
acted  by  millions  of  figures  on  a  gigantic  stage,  place  this 
with  Macaulay's  History  as  the  two  greatest  examples  in 
English  of  the  dramatic  portraiture  of  an  era.  The  smooth- 
ness and  lucidity  of  Macaulay's  narrative,  in  comparison  with 
the  ruggedness,  the  deep  glooms  and  sudden  splendors  of  his 
own,  is  brought  out  by  Carlyle's  humorous  exclamation  upon 
reading  Macaulay  for  the  first  time — "Flow  on,  thou  shin- 
ing river!" 

Carlyle's  Service  to  His  Age. — Carlyle  poured  into  the  life 
of  his  time  a  stream  of  intense  moral  ardor  and  indignation 
which  broke  up  the  congealed  waters  and  permanently  raised 
the  standard  of  feeling.  He  united  in  remarkable  degree  the 
artistic  and  the  moral  impulses;  and  he  is  in  this  respect 
typical  of  the  Victorian  era,  during  which,  more  than  ever  be- 
fore, art  has  been  infused  with  moral  purpose. 


IV.    ALFRED    TENNYSON    (1809-1892) 

Tennyson's  Early  Life  and  Poetry. — Tennyson  was  born  in 
1809,  at  Somersby  Rectory,  Lincolnshire.  His  father  was  a 
vicar  of  the  Established  Church,  holding  his  living  by  gift 
from  a  large  landed  proprietor;  so  that  Tennyson  was  from 


Alfred  Tennyson  303 

birth  in  close  connection  with  the  main  conservative  interests 
of  England,  the  church  and  the  land. 

The  country  about  Somersby  is  a  typical  English  country, 
softly  rolling,  richly  wooded,  full  of  green  lanes  and  quiet 
streams.  Here,  and  on  the  sea-coast  of  Lincolnshire,  where 
the  family  spent  a  part  of  each  summer,  Tennyson  gathered 
his  first  impressions  of  nature,  and  began  to  cultivate  those 
powers  of  observation  which,  ripening  with  his  years,  made 
him  so  wonderful  an  interpreter  of  nature's  moods.  Pictures 
of  Lincolnshire  landscape,  inland  and  sea-coast,  can  be  traced 
in  the  poetry  even  of  his  latest  years. 

At  Cambridge,  where  he  matriculated  in  1828,  he  was  a 
member  of  a  remarkable  group  of  undergraduates,  called 
"  The  Apostles,"  all  of  whom  attained  eminence  in  later  life. 
Among  these  his  closest  friend  was  Arthur  Henry  Hallam, 
himself  a  poet  and  a  youth  of  splendid  promise.  Tennyson 
had  already  determined  to  devote  his  life  to  poetry,  and  had 
published,  in  conjunction  with  his  brother,  a  small  volume  en- 
titled Poems  by  Two  Brothers.  While  at  Cambridge,  in  1830, 
he  published  his  first  independent  volume,  a  group  of  little 
verse-studies  in  melody  and  picture,  including  "Claribel," 
"Mariana,"  and  the  "Recollections  of  the  Arabian  Nights," 
which  revealed  a  new  music,  rich,  dreamy,  and  delicious.     In 

1 83 1  Tennyson  and  Hallam  made  a  quixotic  journey  to  the 
Pyrenees,  with  the  aim  of  carrying  money  to  the  Spanish  revo- 
lutionists. The  project  miscarried,  but  Tennyson  found  in  the 
scenery  of  the  Pyrenees  the  inspiration  of  his  "(Enone."     In 

1832  he  published  a  second  volume,  which  showed,  in  "The 
Lady  of  Shalott,"  "The  Lotus- Eaters,"  "The  Dream  of  Fair 
Women,"  and  "CEnone,"  a  rapidly  developing  and  already 
exquisite  art.  In  this  volume,  too,  he  began,  with  "The 
Miller's  Daughter"  and  "The  May  Queen,"  his  long  series 
of  idylls  of  English  life,  with  which  he  was  destined  to  gain 
his  widest  popularity. 

These  early  poems  won  for  Tennyson  the  enthusiastic  ad- 
miration of  a  small  group  of  young  men,  with  Hallam  as 
leader  of  the  chorus  of  praise.  The  critics,  however,  were 
differently  minded,  and  greeted  the  new  poet  with  an  out- 
burst of  ridicule.    Tennyson,  now  and  always  intensely  sen- 


304  The  Nineteenth  Century 

sitive  to  criticism,  determined  to  be  silent  until  he  could 
overwhelm  his  opponents  by  a  splendid  and  decisive  triumph. 
For  ten  years  he  published  nothing.  These  were  years  of 
privation,  for  the  family  property  was  swept  away  by  an 
unfortunate  investment;  and  they  were  also  years  of  sor- 
row. In  1833,  Arthur  Hallam,  for  whom  Tennyson  had  a 
love  "passing  the  love  of  women,"  died  suddenly  at  Vienna. 
This  tragic  loss  threw  Tennyson  back  upon  the  deeper  prob- 
lems of  human  life  and  destiny.  In  the  struggle  to  relay 
the  shaken  foundation  of  his  existence,  his  nature  grew  strong ; 
his  work  took  on  a  lofty  seriousness  of  tone  and  a  new  depth 
of  meaning.  He  worked  away,  at  his  bachelor  lodgings  in 
London  and  with  his  family  in  the  country,  until  1842,  when 
his  long  probation  was  over,  and  he  was  ready  to  lay  the  fruit 
of  his  toil  before  the  world. 

Tennyson's  Triumph;  The  Poems  of  1842. — The  two 
volumes  which  appeared  in  1842  contained  the  best  of  his 
previously  published  work,  jealously  revised,  and  many  new 
poems  of  maturer  power.  These  volumes  took  the  critics 
and  the  world  by  storm.  The  range  and  variety  of  work  in 
them  was  extraordinary.  Almost  every  province  of  poetry  was 
touched  upon,  from  the  lyric  simplicity  of  "Break,  Break, 
Break,"  to  the  largely  moulded  epic  strength  of  "Morte 
d'Arthur."  The  series  of  idylls  and  eclogues  picturing 
English  home  and  country  life,  and  pervaded  by  the  atmos- 
phere of  familiar  affections,  was  increased  by  such  poems 
as  "The  Gardener's  Daughter,"  "Dora,"  "Lady  Clare," 
and  "The  Lord  of  Burleigh."  "Ulysses,"  in  which  Tenny- 
son gave  a  magnificent  new  wording  to  an  old  legend,  deals 
with  the  closing  episode  of  the  wandering  hero's  life.  The 
picture  of  the  aged  Ulysses,  determined  to  employ  the  rem- 
nant of  his  days  in  pushing  out  into  the  unknown  waters  of 
the  West,  rather  than  "rust  unused"  in  barren  Ithaca,  was 
an  outgrowth,  Tennyson  has  told  us,  of  his  own  need  of  tak- 
ing heart  and  pushing  forward,  after  Hallam's  death.  The 
new  seriousness  of  the  poet's  mind,  induced  by  the  calamity 
of  his  loss,  is  shown  also  in  such  poems  as  "The  Two  Voices" 
and  "The  Vision  of  Sin."  In  the  first  we  are  shown  the 
struggle  of  a  despairing  mind,  as  it  beholds  the  misery  of 


Photograph,  Copyright,  by  Frederick  Hollyer,  London. 

ALFRED,   LORD  TENNYSON 
After  a  painting  by  G.  F   Watts 


306  The  Nineteenth  Century 

life,  and  questions  whether  or  not  it  shall  take  refuge  in  self- 
destruction.  The  second  touches  upon  a  more  awful  subject, 
"the  end,  here  and  hereafter,  of  the  merely  sensual  man." 
In  "Locksley  Hall"  Tennyson  infused  into  a  story  of  broken 
love,  a  story  in  its  main  features  as  old  as  poetry  itself,  ideas 
drawn  from  recent  discoveries  of  science,  visions  of  the  "in- 
creasing purpose  "  which  runs  through  the  ages,  by  which  "  the 
thoughts  of  men  are  widened."  In  the  poems  "Of  Old  Sat 
Freedom  on  the  Heights,"  and  "Love  Thou  Thy  Land,"  Ten- 
nyson made  a  declaration  of  his  political  faith,  in  which  a 
stern  and  ardent  love  of  freedom  was  mingled  with  a  venera- 
tion for  old  institutions,  a  distrust  of  violence  and  revolution. 
Finally,  the  1842  volumes  displayed  Tennyson's  gift  of  pure 
song,  wonderfully  refined  and  deepened  during  this  ten  years' 
silence,  in  such  poems  as  "Move  Eastward,  Happy  Earth," 
and  "  Break,  Break,  Break."  The  latter, "  made  in  a  Lincoln- 
shire lane  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  between  blossoming 
hedges,"  is  as  moving  and  lovely  a  lyric  as  had  been  written 
in  England  since  the  age  of  Elizabeth. 

Tennyson's  Later  Life  and  Poetry. — In  r847  appeared 
The  Princess.  This  was  followed  in  1850  by  In  Memoriam, 
begun  seventeen  years  before,  soon  after  the  death  of  Arthur 
Hallam,  whose  memory  it  celebrates.  In  Memoriam  made 
Tennyson's  fame  and  material  prosperity  secure.  In  the 
year  of  its  publication,  Wordsworth,  who  had  been  poet 
laureate,  died,  and  Tennyson  took  the  laurel.  A  government 
pension  enabled  him  to  marry  Emily  Sellwood,  to  whom  he 
had  been  engaged  for  many  years.  They  settled  at  Farring- 
ford,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight.  Here,  and  at  Aldworth,  in  Surrey, 
Tennyson  lived  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  retired  from  the  world, 
but  constantly  binding  himself  by  his  work  closer  with  the 
thoughts  and  affections  of  all  English-speaking  people.  The 
most  important  landmarks  of  the  long  literary  life  still  before 
him  were:  Maud  (1855);  Enoch  Arden  (1864);  The  Idylls  of 
the  King  (begun  with  "  Morte  d' Arthur  "  before  1842  and 
completed  in  1872);  a  series  of  dramas  including  Queen 
Mary,  Harold,  Becket,  and  The  Foresters;  a  splendid  volume 
of  Ballads  (1880),  including  "The  Revenge,"  "The  Defense 
of  Lucknow,"  and  "Rizpah" ;  and  such  striking  single  poems 


Alfred  Tennyson  307 

as  "Locksley  Hall  Sixty  Years  After,"  "Merlin  and  the 
Gleam  "  and  "  Crossing  the  Bar."  "  Merlin  and  the  Gleam  " 
he  intended  as  an  allegory  of  his  own  poetical  career; 
"Crossing  the  Bar"  he  wished  to  be  printed  last  in  all  edi- 
tions of  his  poetry,  and  to  stand  as  his  farewell  word,  spoken 
with  solemn  gladness  as  he  put  off  into  the  mysterious  sea  of 
death. 

During  the  forty-two  years  in  which  he  held  the  laureate- 
ship,  Tennyson  stood  as  the  spokesman  of  his  people  in 
times  of  national  sorrow  and  rejoicing.  In  such  poems  as 
"The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade,"  "The  Revenge,"  "The 
Relief  of  Lucknow,"  and  the  "Ode  on  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington," he  ministered  to  national  pride,  fired  the  national 
courage,  and  brought  poetry  nearer  to  the  national  life  than 
it  had  been  since  the  age  of  Elizabeth.  In  1883  he  was 
raised  by  Queen  Victoria  to  the  peerage,  an  honor  which 
he  accepted  in  a  large  spirit,  as  a  tribute  less  to  himself  than 
to  literature.  He  died  in  1892,  and  was  buried  beside 
Chaucer  in  Westminster  Abbey,  with  a  pomp  and  solemnity 
unparalleled  in  the  case  of  any  other  English  man  of  letters. 

Tennyson's  Appearance  and  Personality. — Many  of  Ten- 
nyson's friends  have  recorded  personal  impressions  concern- 
ing him  which  enable  us  to  see  him  vividly  as  he  lived.  Car- 
lyle,  about  1842,  described  him  to  Emerson  thus:  "Alfred 
is  one  of  the  few  British  and  foreign  figures  who  are  and  re- 
main beautiful  to  me,  a  true  human  soul,  to  whom  your  own 
soul  can  say,  'Brother!'  One  of  the  finest  looking  men  in 
the  world.  A  great  shock  of  rough  dusky  dark  hair ;  bright, 
laughing,  hazel  eyes;  massive  aquiline  face,  most  massive 
yet  most  delicate;  of  sallow  brown  complexion,  almost  In- 
dian looking;  clothes  cynically  loose,  free-and-easy;  smokes 
infinite  tobacco.  His  voice  is  musical,  metallic,  fit  for  loud 
laughter  and  piercing  wail,  and  all  that  may  lie  between; 
speech  and  speculation  free  and  plenteous;  I  do  not  meet 
in  these  late  decades  such  company  over  a  pipe! "  A  friend 
once  protested  to  Tennyson  that  it  was  unfair  he  should  be 
"Hercules  as  well  as  Apollo";  and  Fitzgerald  (the  translator 
of  Omar  Khayyam)  notes:  "Alfred  could  hurl  the  crow-bar 
farther  than  any  of  the  neighboring  clowns,  whose  humors, 


308  The  Nineteenth  Century 

as  well  as  those  of  their  betters,  knight,  squire,  landlord,  and 
lieutenant,  he  took  quiet  note  of,  like  Chaucer  himself."  Of 
his  simplicity  and  candor,  Mr.  T.  Watts-Dunton  says:  "The 
charm  of  Tennyson  lay  in  a  great  veracity  of  soul,  in  a 
simple  single-mindedness,  so  child-like  that  you  could  not 
have  supposed  but  that  all  subtleties — even  those  of  poetic 
art — must  be  foreign  to  a  nature  so  simple."  And  again, 
"Behind  his  uncompromising  directness  was  apparent  a 
noble  and  splendid  courtesy  of  the  grand  old  type.  As  he 
stood  in  the  porch  at  Aldworth,  meeting  a  guest  or  bidding 
him  good-bye — as  he  stood  there,  tall  far  beyond  the  height 
of  average  men,  his  skin  showing  dark  and  tanned  by  the  sun 
and  wind — no  one  could  mistake  him  for  anything  but  a  great 
forth-right  English  gentleman."  To  the  end  of  his  life  he 
was  excessively  sensitive  to  criticism;  but  his  distaste  for 
adulation  was  equally  marked,  and  this,  together  with  a  cer- 
tain unconquerable  shyness,  often  made  his  manner  gruff  and 
abrupt,  especially  toward  strangers.  All  who  knew  him  in 
his  daily  walks  about  his  country  homes  testify  to  his  marvel- 
lous knowledge  of  the  world  of  nature;  every  flower,  bird, 
and  insect  was  known  to  him ;  his  knowledge  of  geology  was 
profound,  and  a  lifelong  study  of  the  stars  and  their  sea- 
sons gave  him  a  grasp  of  astronomy  unequalled  by  any 
other  poet  except  Dante.  Humor  is  seldom  apparent  in  his 
writings,  it  is  in  fact  rather  conspicuously  absent ;  but  many 
good  sayings  and  amusing  anecdotes  bear  out  the  testimony 
of  his  friends  that  his  daily  life  was  illuminated  by  abundant 
humor,  very  quaint  and  dry. 

"The  Princess." — Tennyson's  first  long  poem,'  The  Prin- 
cess, deals  with  the  question,  then  beginning  to  be  much 
discussed,  of  the  higher  education  of  women.  It  has  for  its 
sub-title  "A  Medley,"  and  no  description  could  be  more  just. 
The  story  is  set  in  a  graceful  framework  of  modern  English 
life;  it  is  supposed  to  be  "improvised"  by  a  group  of  young 
people  gathered  on  the  lawn  of  an  English  country-house 
during  the  afternoon  of  a  popular  holiday.  A  modern  and 
realistic  atmosphere  is  thus  established,  in  which  the  modern 
"teaching"  of  the  story  may  emerge  without  a  sense  of  dis- 
cord.   The  story  itself  deals  with  the  quixotic  attempt  of  a 


Alfred  Tennyson  309 

noble-spirited  maiden  and  her  women  associates  to  establish 
a  female  college  and  to  realize  an  ideal  of  intellectual  life  in 
which  love  and  marriage  shall  have  no  part.  The  college  is 
invaded  by  the  maiden's  suitor  in  disguise,  and  love  finally 
triumphs  over  learning.  The  story  is  fantastically  mixed, 
of  elements  brought  from  many  ages  and  countries ;  and  the 
style,  always  musical,  dreamy,  and  richly  colored,  often  wan- 
ders from  the  "mock  heroic"  key  in  which  the  poem  is 
supposed  to  be  pitched.  Tennyson  gives  a  fair  hearing  to 
both  sides  of  the  vexed  question  of  the  emancipation  of 
women.  His  solution,  however,  given  in  the  noble  concluding 
passage  of  the  poem,  is  practically  the  old  solution,  broadened 
and  clarified,  that  "woman's  cause  is  man's,"  that,  "either 
sex  alone  is  half  itself"  but  united  they  form  a  "two-celled 
heart,  beating  with  one  full  stroke,  life."  The  songs  which 
divide  the  various  parts  of  the  little  mock-epic  are  among  the 
most  beautiful  and  best-loved  of  all  Tennyson  wrote.  "  Blow, 
Bugle,  Blow,"  "Sweet  and  Low,"  and  "Tears,  Idle  Tears" 
are  miracles  of  pure  and  lucent  melody. 

"In  Memoriam." — In  Memoriam,  the  greatest  work  of 
Tennyson's  younger  manhood,  may  be  called  an  epic  of 
the  inner  life,  on  its  religious  side.  Epic  in  its  boldness 
and  sweep,  it  is,  however,  purely  lyrical  in  form.  It  con- 
sists of  a  hundred  and  thirty-one  lyrics,  "short  swallow- 
flights  of  song,"  composed  in  the  intervals  of  other  work. 
In  the  beginning  of  the  poem,  the  early  phases  of  grief  are 
touched  upon,  moods  of  stunned  and  bewildered  sorrow. 
Gradually  the  personal  pain  merges  into  anxious  speculation 
concerning  the  mystery  of  death  and  the  hope  of  immortal- 
ity. Through  states  of  doubt,  despair,  and  anguished  ques- 
tion, the  poem  slowly  mounts  into  a  region  of  firm  though 
saddened  faith;  and  it  ends  in  full  hymnal  music  breathing 
hope  and  fortitude  of  heart.  In  it  we  see  exemplified,  in  the 
struggle  and  hardly-won  triumph  of  a  single  soul,  the  world- 
wide struggle  of  our  age  to  preserve  its  faith  in  the  spiritual 
significance  of  life  and  death,  in  the  face  of  the  revelations 
of  modern  science,  at  first  view  so  appalling.  When  In 
Memoriam  was  written,  Darwin's  theory  of  the  evolution  of 
human  life  from  lower  forms  had  not  yet  been  given  to  the 


310  The  Nineteenth  Century 

world ;  *  but  the  idea  was  already  in  the  air,  and  in  number- 
less ways  Science  had  begun  to  sap  the  old  foundations  of 
religious  faith.  Tennyson  courageously  faced  the  facts  of 
science,  as  revealed  in  geology  and  biology ;  and  he  succeeded 
in  wringing  religious  consolation  from  the  very  things  which 
were  dreaded  as  a  fatal  menace  to  religion.  A  majestic 
movement  is  given  to  In  Memoriam  by  the  fact  that  the 
poem  follows  the  year  twice  through  its  revolutions,  so  that 
the  succession  of  day  and  night,  the  moon's  changing  phases, 
the  lapsing  of  the  stars  in  their  courses,  the  slow  pageant  of 
the  seasons,  seem  at  last  to  enfold  with  their  large  harmony 
and  peace  the  forlorn  heart  of  the  mourner.  Although,  in 
helping  to  break  down  the  false  opposition  between  science 
on  the  one  hand,  and  poetry  and  spiritual  faith  on  the  other, 
In  Memoriam  did  a  great  service  to  the  age,  its  definite 
religious  teaching  is  of  minor  import  beside  its  general  no- 
bility of  mood,  the  solemn  beauty  of  its  portrayal  of  the 
inner  life,  its  wonderful  pictures  of  English  landscape  and  the 
English  home,  and  the  full  deep  tide  of  music  upon  which  all 
is  borne  along.  With  Milton's  "Lycidas"  and  Shelley's 
"Adonais"  it  forms  the  height  and  crown  of  English  elegiac 
verse. 

"Idylls  of  the  King." — The  greatest  work  of  Tennyson's 
later  life  is  the  Idylls  of  the  King,  in  which  he  painted  anew 
the  character  of  the  first  English  national  hero,  King  Arthur, 
and  gave  new  meaning  to  the  cycle  of  legends  which  had  grown 
up  in  the  middle  ages  about  the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table. 
These  legends  had  been  gathered  together  by  Geoffrey  of 
Monmouth,  added  to  by  Layamon  in  his  Brut,  woven  into 
romances  by  the  Anglo-Norman  trouveres,  and  combined 
into  a  splendid  .prose  romance  by  Sir  Thomas  Malory.  A 
great  tangled  mass  of  legend,  the  King  Arthur  stories  had  lain 
for  centuries  awaiting  the  hand  of  some  poet  able  to  give  them 
a  monumental  treatment.  Milton  had  looked  at  the  subject 
longingly  in  his  youth,  and  had  abandoned  it  only  to  take 
up  the  greater  theme  of  Paradise  Lost.  Tennyson  began 
early  in  his  career  to  dip  into  its  treasure-house  of  fancy,  and 

*  The  Origin  of  Species  appeared  in  1859,  the  Descent  of  Man  in  1871. 


Alfred  Tennyson  311 

to  make  short  lyric  studies,  such  as  "The  Lady  of  Shalott" 
and  "Sir  Galahad  and  Queen  Guinevere,*1  upon  its  themes. 
As  early  as  1842  he  had  written  the  wonderful  narrative  of 
Arthur's  death,  which  in  the  completed  series  of  "Idylls," 
was  changed  in  title  from  "Morte  d 'Arthur"  to  "The  Pas- 
sing of  Arthur,"  and  was  put  last  of  the  twelve  poems  making 
up  the  epic.  The  others  were  written  at  long  intervals  apart, 
and  in  a  very  different  order  from  that  in  which  they  now 
appear.  They  are  bound  together  by  the  persistence  through 
them  all  of  Arthur's  personality,  the  attempt  which  he 
made  to  build  up  an  ideal  kingdom,  and  the  defeat  of  this 
attempt  by  the  forces  of  sin  and  violence.  Taken  together, 
the  "  Idylls "  form  a  body  of  blank  verse  which,  for  splen- 
dor and  charm,  had  not  been  equalled  since  Milton.  The 
quality  of  poetry  in  them  is  like  that  of  the  Faerie  Queene, 
a  beauty  of  dream,  of  cloudland,  of  "  Celtic  magic."  Their 
whole  effect  may  be  best  described  by  Keats's  phrase,  "huge 
cl6udy  symbols  of  a  high  romance." 

Tennyson  as  Representative  of  His  Age. — Tennyson  is 
the  supremely  representative  figure  of  the  Victorian  era,  first 
because  he  held  for  fifty  years  of  Victoria's  reign  the  poetic 
supremacy  almost  unchallenged,  and  second  because  he  was 
for  that  long  period  the  recognized  spokesman  of  the  English 
people  in  matters  both  public  and  personal.  His  position 
was  always  at  the  midway  of  extremes  in  thought,  and  he 
was  able  to  include  and  reconcile  a  greater  number  of  the 
age's  diverse  interests  than  any  other  single  writer.  He 
spiritualized  and  poetized  its  science.  He  voiced  its  relig- 
ious struggle.  He  shared  its  interest  in  the  storied  past,  and 
its  vivid  curiosity  concerning  the  future.  He  gave  inspira- 
tion to  its  search  after  broader  and  more  humane  politics. 
He  deepened  his  country's  patriotism  and  the  sense  of  her 
national  mission.  He  poured  a  hallowing  light  over  her 
familiar  affections.  And  he  did  all  this  in  a  medium  of  verse 
always  fine,  with  an  artistic  devotion  equalled  in  English 
literature  only  by  Keats  and  Milton. 


312  The  Nineteenth  Century 


V.    ROBERT   BROWNING    (1812-1889) 
ELIZABETH   BARRETT   BROWNING   (l8o6-l86l) 

Browning's  Early  Life  and  Poetry. — Robert  Browning,  who 
disputes  with  Tennyson  the  first  place  among  Victorian  poets, 
was  born  in  London  in  1812.  English,  Scotch  and  German 
blood  was  mingled  in  his  veins  with  a  more  distant  strain  of 
Creole.  This  mixed  ancestry  has  been  often  pointed  out  as 
an  explanation  of  his  wide  sympathy  with  different  races 
and  types  of  men.  His  father,  a  clerk  in  the  Bank  of  Eng- 
land, was  a  man  of  literary  sensibility,  and  full  of  odd  learning. 
From  him  Browning  gained,  almost  without  knowing  it,  a 
knowledge  of  out-of-the-way  corners  of  history,  and  of  little- 
known  by-ways  of  literature.  To  the  end  of  his  life  the  in- 
fluence of  this  early  training  was  evident  both  in  his  choice  of 
themes  and  in  the  immense  stores  of  curious  information 
which  he  lavished  upon  them.  Browning's  boyhood  and  youth 
were  passed  in  the  suburb  of  Camberwell,  where  Ruskin  also 
was  brought  up.  Camberwell  was  then  a  green,  and  almost 
a  rural  neighborhood,  and  the  youthful  poet's  life  seems  to 
have  been  as  freshly  romantic  as  any  that  was  ever  lived.  He 
was  fond  of  following  gypsy  caravans  as  they  passed  through 
the  country-side ;  the  refrain  of  a  gypsy  song  which  he  once 
heard,  "Follow  the  Queen  of  the  Gypsies,  O!  "  formed  the 
kernel  of  a  poem  which  he  wrote  years  after,  "The  Flight  of 
the  Duchess."  He  would  sometimes,  at  night,  climb  into  the 
elms  above  Norwood,  and  gaze  with  a  strange  wonder  and 
excitement  at  the  lights  of  London  on  the  horizon ;  by  day 
and  night  the  nearness  of  the  vast  city  was  a  reminder  of  the 
complex  human  life  he  was  to  interpret  more  subtly  and 
deeply  than  any  other  poet  had  done  since  Shakespeare. 
When  a  lad  of  fourteen  he  picked  up  by  chance  on  a  London 
book-stall  a  pamphlet  labelled  "Mr.  Shelley's  Atheistical 
Poem — 'Queen  Mab.'  "  Shelley  had  been  dead  four  years, 
but  was  still  so  little  known  to  the  world  at  large  that  none  of 
Browning's  family,  though  really  cultivated  people,  could 
tell  him  who  this  strangely  fascinating  poet  was.  By  perse- 
verance, however,  he  obtained  the  rest  of  Shelley's  poetry, 


Photograph,  Copyright,  by  Frederick  Hollyer,  London. 

ROBERT  BROWNING 
From  a  painting  by  G.  F.  Watts 


314  The  Nineteenth  Century 

and  through  "Adonais"  came  into  a  knowledge  of  Keats. 
The  two  together  kindled  Browning's  latent  genius,  and 
made  a  poet  of  him. 

His  first  long  poem,  Pauline,  published  in  1833,  is  a 
half-dramatic  study  of  the  type  of  spiritual  life  which  Shel- 
ley's own  career  embodied ;  and  Shelley's  influence  is  clearly 
traceable  both  in  its  thought  and  in  its  style.  After  a  trip  to 
Russia  and  Italy,  Browning  published  Paracelsus,  in  his 
twenty-fourth  year.  This,  like  Pauline,  is  the  "history  of 
a  soul."  It  gives  the  life-story  of  Paracelsus,  a  mediaeval 
scholar  and  alchemist,  and  shows  how  his  absorption  in  the 
things  of  the  intellect,  to  the  neglect  of  the  things  of  the  heart, 
causes  him  to  fail. 

Paracelsus  gained  Browning  the  attention  of  the  dis- 
criminating few,  and  led  to  a  request  from  the  actor  Mac- 
ready  for  a  play.  In  response  to  the  invitation  Browning 
wrote  the  first  of  his  dramas,  Strafford,  which  had  a  moderate 
success  upon  the  stage.  In  1840  appeared  his  third  long 
poem,  Sordello,  obscure  and  difficult  by  reason  of  its  youth- 
ful, unmastered  abundance  of  thought  and  feeling.  Of  the 
reception  which  Sordello  met  with,  several  amusing  stories 
are  told.  Carlyle  wrote  that  his  wife  had  read  the  work 
with  much  interest,  and  desired  to  know  whether  Sordello 
was  a  man,  a  city,  or  a  book.  Tennyson  declared  that  he 
could  understand  but  two  lines,  the  first  and  the  last,  "Who 
will  shall  hear  Sordello's  story  told,"  and  "Who  would  has 
heard  Sordello's  story  told," — and  that  they  both  were  lies! 
In  Pippa  Passes,  however  (1841),  Browning  shook  himself 
free-  from  these  faults  of  manner,  and  produced  a  poem  of 
sustained  beauty,  as  clear  as  sunlight,  a  work  of  simple, 
melodious,  impassioned  art.  Between  1840  and  1845  Brown- 
ing was  chiefly  occupied  with  attempts  in  the  acting  drama, 
of  which  the  most  interesting  are  perhaps  Colombe's  Birth- 
day, A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon,  and  The  Return  of  the  Druses. 
He  had  also  begun  those  short  poems  dealing  with  special 
moments  in  the  lives  of  various  men  and  women,  historical 
or  imaginary,  which  constitute  the  most  important  division 
of  his  work.  These  were  published  under  the  titles  Dramatic 
Lyrics  and  Dramatic  Romances. 


Robert  Browning  315 

Browning's  Marriage;  Life  in  Italy. — In  1846  Brown- 
ing married  Elizabeth  Barrett,  whose  poetic  reputation  was 
then  far  greater  than  his.  She  was  a  frail  invalid,  living  in 
a  darkened  room,  and  awaiting  the  coming  of  death.  Brown- 
ing's love  rescued  her  from  the  grave;  and  their  married  life 
was  one  of  happiness  so  high  and  clear  that  it  has  already 
become  one  of  the  glorified  facts  of  literary  history.  Owing 
to  the  opposition  of  Miss  Barrett's  gloomy  and  tyrannical 
father  the  marriage  was  secret.  The  pair  settled  in  Italy, 
where  for  the  remainder  of  Mrs.  Browning's  life  they  lived, 
entering  intimately  into  the  life  of  the  country,  and  sharing 
with  intense  sympathy  in  the  struggle  it  was  then  waging  for 
freedom  from  Austria.  They  made  their  home  at  Florence, 
in  the  house  called  Casa  Guidi,  from  which  was  taken  the 
title  of  Mrs.  Browning's  poem  on  the  Italian  liberation, 
Casa  Guidi  Windows.  Here  Browning  wrote  his  great  series 
of  dramatic  monologues,  entitled  Men  and  Women. 

"  The  Ring  and  the  Book." — One  day  in  Rome  Browning 
picked  up  from  a  street-stall  a  faded  seventeenth  century 
pamphlet  narrating  the  trial  of  Count  Guido  Franceschini 
for  the  murder  of  his  wife  Pompilia.  He  saw  in  the  sordid 
police  record  the  material  for  a  great  picture  of  human  life. 
After  his  wife's  death  in  1861  he  threw  himself,  for  dis- 
traction from  his  grief,  into  the  composition  of  the  vast  poem 
in  twelve  parts,  The  Ring  and  the  Book  (1868-69),  m  which 
he  told  the  tragic  story  of  Pompilia  from  many  different 
points  of  view,  from  her  own  and  her  husband's,  from  that  of 
a  young  priest  Caponsacchi,  who  aids  her  in  her  distress, 
from  that  of  the  lawyers  upon  both  sides,  from  that  of  the 
Pope  who  gives  the  final  judgment,  and  from  that  of  various 
onlookers  and  gossips.  It  is  a  monumental  study  of  a  chain 
of  human  circumstances  as  they  appear  to  minds  looking 
from  many  different  angles,  with  various  degrees  of  insight, 
and  with  various  warping  prejudices.  It  is  the  crowning 
effort  of  Browning's  genius  for  the  vastness  of  its  scope,  its 
intense  humanity,  its  grasp  of  the  complex  elements  of  hu- 
man nature.  The  imperfect  understanding  which  Brown- 
ing's work  met  with  even  thus  late  in  his  career  is  illustrated 
by  Carlyle's  exclamation  upon  reading  The  Ring  and  the 


316  The  Nineteenth  Century 

Book,  "It's  a  wonderful  poem,  one  of  the  most  wonderful 
poems  ever  written.  I  have  re-read  it  all  through — all  made 
out  of  an  Old  Bailey  story  that  might  have  been  told  in  ten 
lines,  and  only  wants  forgetting!"  Carlyle  missed  in  it 
its  main  significance,  the  infinite  importance  of  that  which, 
from  the  ordinary  point  of  view,  seems  unimportant. 

Browning's  Later  Life. — After  the  death  of  his  wife 
Browning  spent  his  time  chiefly  in  England.  He  wrote 
much,  with  a  steady  gain  in  intellectual  subtlety  but  with  a 
corresponding  loss  of  poetic  beauty.  Many  of  his  later 
poems,  such  as  Bishop  BlougranCs  Apology,  Prince  Hohen- 
stiel-Schwangau,  and  Mr.  Sludge  the  Medium  take  the  part, 
dramatically,  of  dubious  characters,  and  attempt  to  justify 
them  from  their  own  standpoint.  He  made  an  exhaustive 
study  of  Greek  life  and  literature,  and  produced  several 
remarkable  poems  upon  Greek  subjects.  The  most  enjoy- 
able of  these  is  a  free  translation  of  the  Alcestis  of  Eurip- 
ides, set  in  a  beautiful  framework  of  original  narrative,  and 
entitled  Balaustion's  Adventure.  To  the  last  his  genius 
continued  to  throw  out,  in  his  short  poems,  bursts  and  jets 
of  exquisite  music,  color,  and  feeling.  Such,  for  instance, 
are  the  little  pieces  called  "Wanting  is — What?"  and 
"Never  the  Time  and  the  Place,"  written  in  his  seventy-first 
year;  and  "Summum  Bonum,"  written  just  before  the  pen 
dropped  from  his  hand  in  1889,  at  Venice,  in  the  seventy- 
seventh  year  of  his  age.  He  had  had  to  wait  long  for  rec- 
ognition, but  during  the  latter  years  of  his  life  his  fame 
overshadowed  even  that  of  Tennyson,  and  his  works  were 
studied  with  an  enthusiasm  seldom  accorded  to  a  living  poet. 

Browning  as  a  Man. — Although  Browning  spent  a  large 
portion  of  his  literary  effort  in  defending  what  society  has 
generally  regarded  as  indefensible,  his  conduct  of  his  own 
life,  before  and  after  his  secret  marriage  and  elopement, 
was  thoroughly  plain  and  usual.  He  even  prided  him- 
self upon  being  a  man  of  the  world.  He  was  open  and 
abundant  in  conversation;  he  was  fond  of  society;  he 
discharged  all  the  common  duties  of  life  with  thoroughness 
and  relish.  A  lady  who  saw  him  at  a  dinner-table,  without 
knowing  him,  asked,  "Who  is  that  too  exuberant  financier?" 


Robert  Browning  317 

and  Browning  was  flattered  by  the  question.  Yet,  notwith- 
standing all  this,  his  romanticism  was  as  vivid  as  Shelley's  or 
Byron's,  and  perhaps  deeper  than  theirs.  Macready,  the 
actor,  said  of  him  in  his  youth  that  he  looked  and  spoke 
more  like  a  poet  than  anyone  he  had  ever  known.  Carlyle 
tells  how,  on  one  of  his  solitary  gallops  he  was  stopped 
on  Wimbledon  Common  by  a  young  man,  singularly  beauti- 
ful, with  dark  Italian  face  and  black  hair  flowing  in  the 
wind,  who  poured  out  to  him,  without  preface  or  apology, 
his  admiration  for  the  philosopher's  writings.  The  anecdote, 
besides  giving  us  a  picturesque  glimpse  of  Browning  in  his 
ardent  youth,  shows  the  impulsiveness  and  generous  admira- 
tion for  others  which  characterized  him  always,  and  which 
made  him  the  friend  of  men  whose  differences  of  tempera- 
ment estranged  them  from  each  other.  There  was  in  him, 
also,  an  almost  savage  virility  and  force  of  feeling,  capable 
at  rare  intervals  of  transforming  the  affable  man  of  the  world 
into  a  primeval  creature,  violent  and  terrible.  Much  of 
Browning's  work  is  intellectual;  but  we  cannot  rightly  un- 
derstand him  unless  we  remember  that  the  core  of  his  nature 
was  simply  and  glowingly  human;  that  he  was,  first  of  all, 
a  poet,  and  therefore  one  in  whom  feeling  and  imagination 
were  the  moving  forces,  and  thought  was  only  a  secondary 
thing. 

Browning's  Poems  as  "  Soul  Histories  ";  "  Pippa  Passes." 
— Browning's  earliest  poem,  Pauline,  was,  he  tells  us,  in- 
tended as  the  first  of  a  series  of  "mono-dramatic  epics," 
each  of  which  was  to  present  the  " history  of  a  soul."  Broadly 
viewed,  the  whole  of  Browning's  work  is  what  his  youthful 
ambition  dreamed  of  making  it.  In  three  forms,  pure  drama, 
dramatic  narrative,  and  dramatic  lyric,  he  gave  the  history 
of  hundreds  of  souls;  or  if  not  their  whole  history,  at  least 
some  exciting  moment  of  it.  In  his  earlier  life  he  made 
many  attempts  to  present  these  high  moments  in  regular 
drama,  but  the  form  was  not  perfectly  suited  to  his  pecu- 
liar task.  In  Pippa  Passes,  however,  he  threw  aside  many 
of  the  conventional  demands  of  the  stage,  and  presented  four 
special  moments  of  soul-history,  connected  with  each  other 
by  only  a  slight  thread.    The  germ  of  the  poem  came  to  him 


318  The  Nineteenth  Century 

in  youth,  while  listening  to  a  gypsy  girl  singing  in  the  Cam- 
berwell  woods.  He  imagined  someone  walking  alone  through 
life,  apparently  too  obscure  to  leave  any  trace  behind,  but 
unconsciously  exercising  at  every  step  a  determining  influ- 
ence upon  other  lives.  This  conception  he  afterward  con- 
nected with  the  personality  of  a  little  work-girl  in  the  silk- 
mills  of  Asolo,  a  mountain  town  which  he  had  visited  on 
his  first  journey  to  Italy.  Pippa  walks  through  Asolo  on 
New  Year's  Day,  her  one  holiday  in  the  year,  unconsciously 
dropping  her  divine  songs  into  the  lives  of  various  people, 
just  at  the  moment  when  their  fates  are  trembling  between 
good  and  evil,  courage  and  cowardice.  By  the  touching 
purity  and  gladness  of  her  voice,  or  by  the  significant  words 
she  utters,  she  saves  in  turn  each  of  the  four  persons  whose 
lives  are  at  the  turning  point.  At  evening  she  goes  back  to 
her  bare  room,  and  sinks  to  sleep  with  a  final  song  on  her 
lips,  still  ignorant  of  the  service  she  has  done. 

Browning's  Short  Poems:  Peculiarities  of  His  Method. — 
Browning  is  less  a  dramatist  than  an  exhibitor  of  single 
dramatic  situations,  such  as  the  four  which  are  bound  loosely 
together  by  Pippa's  chance-heard  songs.  It  follows  that 
his  most  vital  work  is,  generally  speaking,  in  his  short  poems. 
In  these  he  not  only  selects  a  special  moment  in  the  life  of 
his  characters,  but  as  a  rule  he  views  his  theme  from  some 
odd  and  striking  point  of  view.  Perhaps  the  best  example 
of  his  skill  in  selecting  a  point  of  view,  is  to  be  found  in 
the  "Epistle  of  Karshish."  The  aim  of  the  poem  is  to 
present  the  state  of  mind  of  Lazarus,  who  has  beheld  the 
mysteries  of  existence  beyond  the  grave,  and  who  has  brought 
back  into  mortal  life  a  sense  of  immortality  so  strong  that 
every  act  and  every  judgment  is  determined  by  it.  The 
time  is  about  thirty  years  after  the  death  of  Christ;  and  the 
speaker,  Karshish,  is  an  Arab  doctor  who  in  travelling  through 
Palestine  has  met  Lazarus,  and  who  sends  a  report  of  the 
strange  case  to  his  old  master  in  leechcraft,  Abib.  Through 
the  vain  struggle  of  Karshish  to  maintain  his  scientific  scep- 
ticism in  the  face  of  Lazarus's  story  and  bearing,  we  are  made 
to  feel  the  reality  of  the  miracle  with  overwhelming  force, 
and  are  brought  strangely  near  to  the  conditions  of  life  in  Pal- 


Robert  Browning  319 

estine  in  the  next  generation  after  Christ.  Another  pecu- 
liarity of  Browning's  method  in  his  short  poems  is  that  he 
throws  the  reader  into  the  midst  of  the  theme  with  startling 
suddenness,  and  proceeds  with  a  rapidity  which  is  apt  to 
bewilder  a  reader  not  in  the  secret  of  the  method.  There 
are  no  explanations,  no  gradual  transitions.  A  capital  ex- 
ample of  this  peculiarity  is  the  "Soliloquy  in  a  Spanish 
Cloister,"  which  has  to  be  read  to  the  end  before  we  see  it 
for  what  it  is,  the  self-revealed  picture  of  a  narrow-minded, 
superstitious,  sensual  monk,  stirred  to  hatred  by  a  brother 
monk,  whose  mild,  benignant  ways  and  genuine  piety  we 
gradually  discern  through  the  speaker's  jeers  and  curses. 
If  we  add  to  these  peculiarities  of  method  the  fact  that 
Browning's  best  work  is  very  compressed,  in  style,  we  see 
why  many  persons  have  found  obscure  in  him  what  is  in 
reality  clear  enough,  but  is  not  to  be  perceived  clearly  with- 
out alertness  on  the  reader's  part.  Perhaps  the  poem  which 
best  illustrates  all  Browning's  peculiarities  of  method,  har- 
moniously combined,  is  "My  Last  Duchess,"  a  marvellous 
example  of  his  power  to  give  a  whole  life-history,  with  a 
wealth  of  picturesque  detail,  in  a  few  vivid,  suggestive  lines. 
Some  of  Browning's  Themes. — In  "Caliban  upon  Sete- 
bos,"  taking  a  hint  from  Shakespeare's  Tempest,  Browning 
has  shown  the  grotesque  imaginings  of  a  half-human  mon- 
ster, groping  after  an  explanation  of  the  universe.  In 
"Childe  Roland,"  starting  with  a  snatch  of  song  from  the 
fool  in  Lear,  he  has  shown  the  heart  of  mediaeval  knight- 
hood, fronting  spectral  terrors  in  its  search  after  the  strong- 
hold of  sin,  the  Dark  Tower,  where  lurks  the  enemy  of  life 
and  joy.  In  "Abt  Vogler,"  and  "A  Toccata  of  Galuppi" 
he  has  touched  upon  the  inner  meanings  of  music,  and  has 
painted  for  us  permanent  types  of  the  musical  enthusiast. 
In  "The  Grammarian's  Funeral"  he  has  shown  the  poetry 
and  heroism  hidden  underneath  the  gray  exterior  of  the  life 
of  a  Renaissance  pedant.  In  "Fra  Lippo  Lippi,"  "Andrea 
del  Sarto,"  and  "Pictor  Ignotus,"  he  has  given  the  secret 
workings  of  the  painter's  nature,  and  has  flashed  illumination 
upon  the  sources  of  success  and  failure  in  art  which  lie  deep 
in  the  moral  being  of  the  artist.     In  "  Balaustion's  Adven- 


320  The  Nineteenth  Century 

ture"  he  has  revealed  the  inner  spirit  of  Greek  life  in  the 
fourth  century  before  Christ.  In  "A  Death  in  the  Desert" 
he  has  led  us  into  the  mystical  rapture  of  the  tarly  Christians ; 
and  in  "Christmas  Eve"  and  " Easter  Day"  he  has  ap- 
proached Christian  faith  from  the  modern  standpoint.  In 
"Saul"  he  has  shown  us,  against  the  splendid  background 
of  patriarchal  Israel,  the  boy  David  singing,  in  the  tent  of 
the  great  king,  songs  of  human  joy  which  rise,  in  a  sudden 
opening  of  the  heavens  of  prophecy,  into  a  song  of  the  coming 
of  the  Messiah.  Nowhere  out  of  Shakespeare  can  be  found 
a  mind  more  wide-ranging  over  the  outer  circumstances  and 
the  inner  significance  of  man's  life. 

Love,  as  the  supreme  experience  of  the  soul,  testing  its 
temper  and  revealing  its  probable  fate,  holds  the  first  place 
in  Browning's  thought.  In  such  poems  as  "Cristina," 
"Evelyn  Hope,"  "The  Last  Ride  Together,"  "My  Star," 
"By  the  Fireside,"  and  a  multitude  more,  he  has  presented 
love  in  its  varied  phases;  and  has  celebrated  its  manifold 
meanings  not  only  on  earth,  but  in  the  infinite  range  of 
worlds  through  which  he  believes  that  the  soul  is  destined 
to  go  in  search  after  its  own  perfection.  By  the  intensity 
and  positiveness  of  his  doctrine  he  has  influenced  his  age 
profoundly,  and  has  made  his  name  synonymous  with  faith- 
fulness to  the  human  love  which  life  brings,  and  through 
that  to  the  divine  love  which  it  implies  and  promises. 

The  robustness  of  Browning's  nature,  its  courage,  its 
abounding  joy  and  faith  in  life,  make  his  works  a  perma- 
nent storehouse  of  spiritual  energy.  In  an  age  distracted  by 
doubt  and  divided  in  will,  his  strong  unfaltering  voice  has 
been  lifted  above  the  perplexities  and  hesitations  of  men, 
like  a  bugle-call  to  joyous  battle,  in  which  the  victory  is  to 
the  brave. 

Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning. — One  of  Browning's  most 
perfect  short  poems,  "One  Word  More,"  is  addressed  to  his 
wife,  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  (1806-1861),  and  is  a 
kind  of  counter-tribute  to  her  most  perfect  work,  the  Son- 
nets from  the  Portuguese,  which  contain  the  record  of  her 
courtship  and  marriage.  Her  early  life  was  shadowed  by 
illness  and  affliction;  and  her  early  poetry  {The  Seraphim, 


1 

~'m 

Sk  jh^ 

M 

..  t\ 

4| 

■  **~ 

■^;x 

L.  -.   '  '•"■'  '-'■'- 

Photograph,  Copyright,  by  Frederick  Hollyer,  London 

ELIZABETH   BARRETT   BROWNING 
From  a  drawing  by  Field  Talfourd,  Rome,  March,  1859 


322  The  Nineteenth  Century 

1838,  Poems,  1844)  shows  in  many  places  the  defects  of 
unreality  and  of  overwrought  emotion  natural  to  work  pro- 
duced in  a  sick-chamber.  The  best  known  of  these  early 
poems  are  perhaps  "Lady  Geraldine's  Courtship,"  where 
she  works  under  the  influence  of  Tennyson's  idylls,  and 
"The  Cry  of  the  Children,"  where  she  voices  the  humani- 
tarian protest  against  child-labor  in  mines  and  factories. 
After  her  marriage  and  removal  to  Italy  her  health  im- 
proved, and  her  art  greatly  strengthened.  The  Sonnets 
from  the  Portuguese  (1850)  are  among  the  noblest  love- 
poems  in  the  language.  Mrs.  Browning  was  deeply  in- 
terested in  the  struggle  of  Italy  to  shake  off  her  bondage 
to  Austria,  as  is  shown  by  her  Casa  Guidi  Windows,  pub- 
lished in  1 85 1.  In  1856  appeared  her  most  ambitious  work, 
Aurora  Leigh,  a.  kind  of  versified  novel  of  modern  English 
life,  with  a  social  reformer  of  aristocratic  lineage  for  hero, 
and  a  young  poetess,  in  large  part  a  reflection  of  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing's own  personality,  for  heroine.  Aurora  Leigh  shows  the 
influence  of  a  great  novel-writing  age,  when  the  novel  was 
becoming  more  and  more  imbued  with  social  purpose.  The 
interest  in  public  questions  also  appears  in  Mrs.  Browning's 
Poems  Before  Congress  (i860),  and  in  her  Last  Poems  (1862). 
Mrs.  Browning's  touch  is  uncertain,  and  her  style  some- 
times vague  or  extravagant.  But  she  had  a  noble  sympathy 
with  noble  causes,  her  emotion  is  elevated  and  ardent,  and 
her  expression,  at  its  best  (as  in  the  Sonnets  from  the  Portu- 
guese) ,  is  as  lofty  as  her  mood.  Her  characteristic  note  is  that 
of  intimate,  personal  feeling ;  even  Casa  Guidi  Windows  has 
been  called  "a  woman's  love-making  with  a  nation." 

VI.    MATTHEW   ARNOLD    (1822-1888) 

Arnold's  Life. — Browning's  robust  optimism  in  the  face  of 
all  the  unsettling  and  disturbing  forces  of  the  age  is  thrown 
out  in  sharp  relief  when  we  contrast  him  with  a  somewhat 
younger  poet,  Matthew  Arnold,  in  whom  the  prevailing  tone 
is  one  of  half -despairing  doubt.  Arnold  was  born  in  1822, 
the  son  of  Dr.  Thomas  Arnold,  the  famous  head-master  of 
Rugby.      The  Arnolds    had  a  house   in  the  lake   country, 


Matthew  Arnold  323 

near  Wordsworth,  and  the  two  families  were  on  friendly 
terms.  In  his  later  life  as  a  critic  Matthew  Arnold  was  to 
do  much  toward  fixing  Wordsworth's  high  place  in  the  minds 
of  his  countrymen.  From  the  first  the  influence  of  Words- 
worth's poetry  upon  Arnold  was  strong.  Arnold  went  up 
to  Oxford  in  1840,  and  five  years  later  won  a  fellowship  at 
Oriel  College.  His  first  volume  appeared  in  1849,  with  the 
title,  The  Strayed  Reveller,  and  Other  Poems.  This  was  fol- 
lowed by  Poems  (1853),  Merope,  a  drama  in  Greek  form  and 
on  a  Greek  subject  (1858),  and  by  New  Poems,  in  1867. 
From  his  thirtieth  year  until  shortly  before  his  death,  he  held 
the  position  of  inspector  of  schools.  To  the  demands  and 
responsibilities  of  this  official  position  were  added,  in  1857, 
those  of  a  professorship  of  poetry  at  Oxford.  These  outer 
circumstances  were  largely  instrumental  in  turning  his  ener- 
gies away  from  poetry  into  the  field  of  prose  criticism,  where, 
for  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  life,  he  held  the  position  of 
a  leader,  almost  of  a  dictator.  His  most  important  work  in 
prose  is  the  Essays  in  Criticism  (1865).  Toward  the  end 
of  his  life  he  made  a  lecturing  tour  in  America,  the  chief 
outcome  of  which  was  the  brilliant  address  on  Emerson, 
published,  with  other  essays,  in  Discourses  in  America.  He 
died  in  1888. 

Arnold  as  a  Poet. — Arnold  may  be  described  as  a  poet  of 
transition.  He  grew  up  in"the  interval  between  the  first  and 
the  second  outburst  of  creative  energy  in  the  century.  Car- 
lyle,  Browning,  Tennyson,  and  others,  were,  each  in  his  way, 
already  building  anew  the  structures  of  spiritual  faith  and 
hope ;  but  by  Arnold,  as  by  many  others,  the  ebbing  of  the  old 
wave  was  far  more  clearly  felt  than  the  rising  of  the  new  one. 
Standing,  as  he  says, 

"  between  two  worlds,  one  dead, 
The  other  powerless  to  be  born," 

he  fronts  life  wearily,  or  at  best  stoically.  He  seeks  conso- 
lation in  the  intellect ;  and  his  poetry,  which  addresses  itself 
to  the  cultivated  few,  is  rather  thoughtful  than  impassioned. 
His  religious  dejection  is  expressed  very  beautifully  in  "  Dover 


324  The  Nineteenth  Century 

Beach"  and  "Obermann."  It  is  this  same  dejection  applied 
to  the. facts  of  human  intercourse,  which  breathes  sadly  but 
calmly  through  the  series  of  love  lyrics  entitled  "  Switzerland." 
The  imperfections  and  unrealized  ideals  of  life,  in  which  Ten- 
nyson found  cause  to  "faintly  trust  the  larger  hope,"  and  in 
which  Browning  saw  the  "broken  arcs"  of  heaven's  "perfect 
round,"  Arnold  made  a  reason  for  doubt,  declaring  that  men 
should  put  away  delusion,  and  expect  in  the  future  only  what 
they  see  in  the  past.  Other  phases  of  this  stoic  melancholy 
and  of  the  struggle  which  it  wages  with  the  restless  craving 
for  joy,  are  to  be  studied  in  the  pieces  called  "  Self-Depend- 
ence" and  "A  Summer  Night." 

For  his  ideal  of  form,  Arnold  went  to  the  literature  of 
Greece.  When  he  works  more  deliberately  in  the  Greek 
spirit  and  manner,  his  style  is  often  cold  and  dry.  In  his 
long  poems,  especially,  he  is  apt  to  sacrifice  too  much  to  his 
reverence  for  classical  tradition.  Only  one  of  them,  Soh- 
rab  and  Rustum,  which  tells  an  oriental  story  of  a  duel 
between  a  father  and  his  lost  son,  and  their  recognition  of 
each  other  in  death,  combines  classic  purity  of  style  with 
romantic  ardor  of  feeling.  The  truth  of  its  oriental  color, 
the  deep  pathos  of  the  situation,  the  fire  and  intensity  of 
the  action,  the  strong  conception  of  character,  and  the  full, 
solemn  music  of  the  verse,  make"Sohrab  and  Rustum"  the 
masterpiece  among  Arnold's  longer  poems.  The  same  unity 
of  classic  form  with  romantic  feeling  characterizes  his  two 
shorter  masterpieces,  "The  Scholar  Gypsy"  and  "Thyrsis," 
written  to  commemorate  his  college  friend,  Arthur  Hugh 
Clough. 

Arnold  as  a  Prose  Writer. — Arnold's  prose  has  little  trace 
of  the  wistful  melancholy  of  his  verse.  It  is  almost  always 
urbane,  vivacious,  light-hearted.  The  doctrine  which  he 
spent  his  later  life  in  preaching  is  based  upon  a  classical 
ideal,  the  ideal  of  symmetry,  wholeness,  or,  as  he  daringly 
called  it,  perfection.  Carlyle  had  preached  the  value  of  con- 
duct, the  "Hebraic"  element  in  life;  Arnold  set  himself  to 
preach  the  value  of  the  "Hellenic"  element — open-mind- 
edness,  delight  in  ideas,  alertness  to  entertain  new  points  of 
view  and  willingness  to  examine  life  constantly  in  the  light  of 


Matthew  Arnold  325 

new  theories.  Wherever,  in  religion,  politics,  education,  or 
literature,  he  saw  his  countrymen  under  the  domination  of 
narrow  ideals,  he  came  speaking  the  mystic  word  of  deliv- 
erance, "Culture."  Culture,  acquaintance  with  the  best 
which  has  been  thought  and  done  in  the  world,  is  his  remedy 
for  all  ills.  In  almost  all  of  his  prose  writing  he  attacks 
some  form  of  "Philistinism,"  by  which  word  he  characterized 
the  narrow-mindedness  and  self-satisfaction  of  the  British 
middle  class.  His  ideal  was  that  of  balanced  cultivation,  the 
ideal  of  the  trained,  sympathetic,  cosmopolitan  gentleman. 
In  his  own  way  he  was  a  prophet  and  a  preacher,  striving 
whole-heartedly  to  release  his  countrymen  from  bondage  to 
mean  things,  and  pointing  their  gaze  to  that  wholeness  and 
balance  of  character  which  has  seemed  to  many  noble  minds 
the  true  goal  of  human  endeavor. 

Arnold's  tone  is  admirably  fitted  to  the  peculiar  task  he  had 
to  perform.  He  makes  his  plea  for  the  gospel  of  ideas  with 
urbanity  and  playful  grace,  as  befitted  the  Hellenic  spirit, 
bringing  "sweetness  and  light"  into  the  dark  places  of  Brit- 
ish prejudice.  Arnold's  most  important  work  of  literary 
criticism  is  the  series  of  lectures  "On  Translating  Homer," 
which  deserve  careful  study  for  the  enlightenment  they  offer 
concerning  many  of  the  fundamental  questions  of  style.  The 
essays  on  Wordsworth  and  on  Byron,  from  Essays  in  Criti- 
cism, and  that  on  Emerson,  from  Discourses  in  America, 
furnish  good  examples  of  Arnold's  charm  and  stimulating 
power  as  a  critic. 


VII.  john  ruskin  (1819-1899) 

Ruskin's  Early  Life;  Art  Criticism. — The  dictatorship  of 
taste  which  Arnold  held  in  matters  of  literature,  was  held  in 
matters  of  art  by  John  Ruskin,  who  also  broadened  his  criti- 
cism, as  did  Arnold,  into  the  region  of  social  and  moral  ideals. 
He  was  born  in  1 819.  His  father,  a  London  wine-merchant  of 
wealth  and  liberal  tastes,  gave  him  every  early  advantage  of 
education  and  travel.  Family  carriage  trips  through  England, 
France,  and  Switzerland,  enabled  him  to  gather  those  impres- 


328  The  Nineteenth  Century 

sions  of  landscape  beauty  and  of  architectural  effect  which 
he  afterward  put  to  remarkable  use  in  his  critical  writings. 
A  boyish  enthusiasm  for  the  paintings  of  Turner  ripened 
with  years  into  an  ardent  championship  of  that  wonderful 
artist,  then  obscure  and  neglected.  In  the  first  volume  of 
Modern  Painters,  published  in  his  twenty-fourth  year,  Rus- 
kin  enshrined  Turner  as  the  greatest  of  landscape  painters. 
In  doing  so,  however,  his  powers  of  analysis  led  him  deep 
into  the  theory  of  art ;  and  in  the  remainder  of  his  work, 
published  at  intervals  during  the  next  eighteen  years,  he 
examined  many  types  and  schools  of  painting,  separating 
what  he  held  to  be  true  from  what  he  held  to  be  false,  with 
eloquence  and  haughty  assurance.  Meanwhile,  in  The  Seven 
Lamps  oj  Architecture  and  Stones  of  Venice,  he  made  a 
similar  examination  of  the  principal  types  of  European  archi- 
tecture, and  attempted  to  establish  similar  underlying  prin- 
ciples concerning  their  growth  and  decay,  their  worth  and 
worthlessness.  He  believed  the  springs  of  art  to  lie  deep  in 
the  ethical  nature  of  the  artist,  and  in  the  moral  temper  of 
the  age  and  nation  which  produced  him.  This  is  the  per- 
vading idea  of  all  Ruskin's  art  criticism.  By  insistence 
upon  this  view,  by  eloquent  illustration  and  fiery  defence 
of  it,  he  gradually  led  his  readers  to  a  new  understanding  of 
the  spiritual  meaning  of  art,  and  awakened  them  to  a  new 
understanding  of  the  beautiful. 

Ruskin's  Later  Life;  Ethical  and  Economic  Teaching. 
— In  i860,  at  forty  years  of  age,  Ruskin  finished  Modern 
Painters,  and  practically  closed  that  series  of  works  which 
had  given  him  repute  as  a  writer  upon  art.  From  this  time 
on  he  used  art  mainly  as  illustration  and  text,  by  means  of 
which  to  enforce  some  ethical,  economic,  or  religious  lesson. 
He  became  more  and  more  absorbed  in  the  problems  of  social- 
ism, being  led  thereto  by  the  conviction  at  which  he  had  ar- 
rived in  his  previous  work,  that  all  great  art  must  be  national 
and  social,  and  must  spring  from  healthy  and  beautiful  condi- 
tions of  life  in  the  society  where  it  arises.  Modern  art  he 
held  to  be,  with  a  few  exceptions,  debased ;  and  he  gradually 
came  to  believe  that  this  debasement  was  due  to  our  commer- 
cial organization  of  society.    In  two  books,  Munera  Pulveris 


John  Ruskin  327 

and  Unto  This  Last,  he  protested  against  the  received  theories 
of  political  economy.  The  substance  of  his  teaching  is  that 
economics  must  be  looked  at  from  the  stand-point  of  what 
does  and  what  does  not  constitute  true  "value,"  that  is,  of 
what  does  and  what  does  not  contribute  to  the  true  good  of 
man.  He  includes,  therefore,  in  his  "  political  economy"  many 
things  not  included  in  the  previous  "commercial  economy," 
as  he  insists  that  the  science  of  the  old  economists  should  be 
called.  In  thus  broadening  the  basis  of  discussion,  and  giv- 
ing a  new  significance  to  the  term  "value,"  Ruskin  did  a  real 
service  for  the  economic  thought  of  the  future. 

His  most  popular  book,  Sesame  and  Lilies,  was  a  side- 
product  of  his  thinking  on  political  economy.  In  the  first 
division  of  the  book,  entitled  "King's  Treasuries,"  he  holds 
up  to  censure  England's  absorption  in  worldly  success  as 
opposed  to  the  real  success  which  comes  only  from  a  life 
beautifully  and  humanely  lived.  To  the  "gospel  of  getting- 
on,"  which  depends  for  its  appealing  power  upon  the  idea 
that  money  constitutes  the  only  real  "value,"  he  opposes  the 
gospel  of  spiritual  wealth,  especially  as  deposited  in  books, 
those  King's  Treasuries  which  are  the  real  centre  of  the  realm 
of  "value."  The  second  part,  "Queen's  Gardens,"  is  Rus- 
kin's  contribution  to  the  "woman  problem"  of  the  century, 
the  theme  being  the  same  as  that  of  Tennyson's  Princess. 
Sesame  and  Lilies  is  written  in  a  style  of  wonderful  strength 
and  richness.  It  affords  perhaps  the  best  example  of  Rus- 
kin's  prose. 

As  he  went  on  in  years,  Ruskin's  sympathy  went  out  more 
and  more  to  the  oppressed  and  unjustly  treated  of  this  world ; 
and  he  spent  a  large  part  of  his  time  and  energy,  as  well  as  the 
bulk  of  his  large  fortune,  in  attempting  to  help  the  work- 
ing classes  by  word  and  deed.  After  his  removal  in  1872  to 
Brantwood,  in  Wordsworth's  country  among  the  English 
lakes,  his  chief  connection  with  the  outside  world  was  through 
a  series  of  letters  to  working  men,  entitled  Fors  Clavigera, 
which  contain  some  of  his  ripest  teaching,  as  well  as  much 
humorous  and  sweet-minded  familiar  talk.  In  Fors  Clavigera 
first  appeared  the  sketches  afterward  brought  together  as  an 
extended  autobiography,  with  the  title  Pmterita,  where  a  de- 


328  The  Nineteenth  Century 

lightfully  naive  and  candid  account  is  given  of  his  boyhood 
and  youth.    He  died  in  1899. 

Ruskin  as  Writer  and  as  Teacher.  —  Ruskin  combined 
many  gifts  and  qualities :  a  subtle  intellect,  an  intense  sus- 
ceptibility to  beauty  and  ugliness,  great  moral  ardor,  marked 
impatience  and  dogmatism,  and  a  marvellous  power  of  prose 
expression.  His  style  is  based  on  the  prose  of  the  English 
Bible,  modified  by  the  religious  writers  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  and  it  is  enriched  by  a  unique  gift  of  description, 
lyrical  in  movement  and  splendid  in  color.  His  best  de- 
scriptive passages,  for  example  the  famous  dithyramb  on  St. 
Mark's  cathedral  in  Stones  0}  Venice,  that  on  the  Falls  of 
Schaffhausen  in  Modern  Painters,  or  that  on  the  Rhone  at 
Geneva,  in  Prceterita,  are  among  the  greatest  examples  of 
descriptive  eloquence  in  the  language. 

In  the  use  to  which  he  put  his  powers,  Ruskin  shows  the 
strong  sociological  drift  of  the  Victorian  era.  The  first  half 
of  his  life  was  taken  up  with  the  effort  to  vivify  and  spiritual- 
ize his  countrymen's  perceptions  of  the  beautiful,  an  effort 
parallel  with  that  of  Arnold  to  combat  the  sloth  of  their  intel- 
lect, with  that  of  Carlyle  to  make  more  sincere  and  valiant 
their  personal  character.  The  latter  half  of  his  life  was  taken 
up  with  a  protest  against  modern  civilization,  and  with  a 
search  after  some  better  basis  of  society  than  the  present  com- 
mercial one. 

The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel. — While  tracing,  in  this 
chapter  and  the  preceding,  the  literary  history  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  we  have  omitted  all  but  casual  mention  of 
that  form  of  literature  which  has  been  most  popular,  most 
widely  cultivated,  and  perhaps  most  influential  of  all, — the 
novel.  We  must  in  the  next  chapter  retrace  our  steps,  take 
up  the  novel  as  it  was  handed  on  from  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, and  consider  its  manifold  development  during  the  last 
hundred  years. 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— With  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  era, 
political  events  cease  to  have  a  preponderating  influence  upon  litera- 
ture, and  social  changes  become  of  greater  importance.  Summarize 
the  chief  circumstances  making  for  social  change  during  the  Victorian 


Review  Outline  329 

period,  and  describe  briefly  the  influence  which  these  changes  have 
had  upon  the  readers  and  makers  of  books.  Note  the  unusual  con- 
junction in  Victorian  literature  of  romantic  feeling  with  a  serious 
aim. 

State  briefly  the  facts  of  Macaulay's  life  up  to  his  departure  for 
India.  When  and  how  did  he  make  his  first  reputation  as  a  writer  ? 
What  did  the  Reform  Bill  aim  to  accomplish,  and  what  was  Macaulay's 
connection  with  it?  What  were  the  literary  fruits  of  Macaulay's 
residence  in  India  ?  Give  a  short  account  of  his  life  from  his  return 
to  England  until  his  death.  In  what  respects  does  Macaulay's  success 
as  a  speaker  furnish  a  key  to  his  popularity  and  power  as  a  writer?  In 
what  province  of  essay-writing  is  Macaulay  strongest?  In  what 
province  is  he,  by  his  own  confession,  weakest  ?  How  much  ground 
did  he  propose  to  cover  in  his  "  History,"  and  how  much  did  he  actually 
cover?  It  has  been  said  that  Macaulay  derived  his  ideal  of  what 
historical  writing  should  be  from  the  novels  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  What 
light  does  this  throw  upon  his  aim  and  method  as  a  historian  ?  Give 
some  account  of  Macaulay's  personal  character;  of  his  attitude  toward 
his  own  time.     How  is  he  contrasted  with  Carlyle  in  this  latter  respect  ? 

Give  an  account  of  Carlyle's  life  up  to  the  time  of  his  removal  to 
London.  From  what  source  did  he  gain  his  greatest  intellectual 
stimulus  ?  What  is  the  meaning,  in  Carlyle's  own  early  history,  of 
the  phrases,  "  Everlasting  No "  and  *'  Everlasting  Yea "  ?  What 
famous  book,  and  what  two  notable  essays  had  he  written  before  leav- 
ing Craigenputtoch  ?  It  has  been  said  that  the  sympathy  which 
Carlyle  shows  in  his  essay  on  Burns  is  due  in  part  to  a  resemblance 
between  them.  Can  you  instance  a  leading  trait  of  Burns's  character, 
as  man  and  as  poet,  which  gives  him  kinship  with  Carlyle  ?  Narrate 
the  chief  facts  of  Carlyle's  life  after  coming  to  London ;  name  and  char- 
acterize briefly  some  of  his  most  important  writings  in  their  proper 
order.  Give  some  instances  of  Carlyle's  wit  and  caustic  temper;  of 
his  generosity  of  character;  of  his  tenderness.  Pick  out  from  your 
own  reading  some  examples  of  his  humor.  In  what  respects  may 
"  Sartor  Resartus  "  and  "  Heroes  and  Hero-Worship  "  be  looked  upon 
as  his  two  typical  books,  embodying  his  view  of  life  ?  Describe  the 
plan  of  "  Sartor  Resartus."  Compare  Carlyle's  attitude  of  irrespon- 
sibility and  sly  masquerading  with  what  is  said  in  Chapter  X  of  Swift's 
method  of  satire.  Explain  the  twofold  meaning  of  the  "Clothes 
philosophy,"  as    developed  in  "  Sartor."     What  is    meant  by    the 


330  The  Nineteenth  Century 

phrase  "  Carlylese  "  ?  Carlyle  takes  rank  with  Macaulay  as  a  master 
of  picturesque  historical  narrative;  in  what  main  respect  do  they 
differ?  State  in  broad  terms  the  service  which  Carlyle  rendered 
to  his  age. 

Note  the  circumstances  of  Tennyson's  parentage  and  youth  which 
contributed  to  form  his  character  as  a  poet.  What  was  his  first  pub- 
lication ?  When  did  his  first  independent  volumes  appear  ?  What 
circumstances  of  Tennyson's  life  during  his  ten  years'  silence,  from 
1832  to  1842,  tended  to  give  his  work  greater  humanity  and  serious- 
ness ?  In  what  poems  of  the  1842  volumes  is  this  particularly  apparent  ? 
How  is  "  Ulysses "  connected  with  Tennyson's  personal  history  ? 
What  was  Tennyson's  political  attitude,  as  shown  in  such  poems  as 
"  Love  Thou  Thy  Land,"  and  "  Of  Old  Sat  Freedom  on  the  Heights  "  ? 
Tell  what  you  can  of  the  relations  between  Tennyson  and  Arthur  Hal- 
lam.  How  long  was  Tennyson  engaged  upon  "  In  Memoriam  "  ?  Nar- 
rate briefly  the  course  of  Tennyson's  life  from  the  publication  of  "  In 
Memoriam  "  until  his  death.  How  long  was  he  engaged  upon  the 
"  Idylls  of  the  King  "  ?  What  can  you  say  of  Tennyson  as  a  laureate  ? 
What  is  the  bearing  of  "  Merlin  and  the  Gleam  "  and  "  Crossing  the 
Bar  "  upon  the  poet's  personal  history  ?  Describe  the  plan  of  "  The 
Princess."  With  what  question  does  "  The  Princess  "  deal,  and  what 
is  Tennyson's  view  of  the  question?  In  what  form  is  "  In  Memo- 
riam "  written  ?  Note  the  admirable  fitness  of  this  form  for  present- 
ing the  many  different  moods,  the  many  thoughts  and  memories  which 
the  poem  aims  to  present.  What,  in  general  terms,  is  the  course  of 
thought  in  the  poem  ?  Why  was  its  religious  aspect  of  peculiar  im- 
portance at  the  time  when  it  was  written  ?  With  what  two  other 
poems  is  it  commonly  grouped,  and  why  ?  Review  the  history  of 
the  King  Arthur  legends  up  to  the  time  when  Tennyson  took  them  up. 
By  what  central  theme  did  Tennyson  seek  to  give  unity  to  the  "  Idylls 
.of  the  King  "  ?  In  what  respect  is  Tennyson  the  representative  poet 
of  the  Victorian  age  ? 

Give  a  brief  outline  of  Browning's  life.  What  was  the  first  poetical 
influence  under  which  he  fell,  and  how  is  this  reflected  in  his  first 
volume  ?  What  is  the  theme  of  "  Paracelsus  "  ?  What  is  his  most 
perfect  long  poem  ?  Which  is  the  greatest  in  scope  and  human  mean- 
ing? Give  the  titles  of  two  or  three  of  his  most  successful  dramas. 
What  was  Browning's  conception,  in  his  youth,  of  the  work  he  wished 
to  do;  in  what  way  did  he  realize  his  ambition  ?    In  what  peculiar 


Review  Outline  331 

kind  of  dramatic  writing  is  Browning  most  successful?  Explain  in 
what  respect  "  Pippa  Passes  "  is  typical  of  his  peculiar  dramatic  genius. 
State  some  of  the  peculiarities  of  Browning's  method  in  his  short 
poems,  illustrating  the  general  points,  if  possible,  from  your  own 
reading.  Find  for  yourself  further  illustration,  besides  that  given 
in  the  text,  of  Browning's  sympathy  with  widely  different  types  of 
human  life.  What  aspect  of  human  life  held  the  first  place  in  his 
thoughts  ?  As  an  epitome  of  Browning's  courage  and  optimism  read 
the  "  Epilogue  to  Asolando,"  the  last  lines  which  Browning  published; 
they  are  his  farewell  word  in  the  same  sense  that  "  Crossing  the  Bar  " 
is  Tennyson's.  Read  in  the  same  connection  "  Prospice,"  in  which 
poem  also  he  faces  the  fact  of  death,  and  utters  his  personal  feeling 
concerning  it.  In  what  two  poems  did  Browning  and  his  wife  leave 
to  the  world  a  memorial  of  their  love  for  each  other  ?  If  possible  read 
these  two  works  together.  Give  a  brief  outline  of  Mrs.  Browning's 
life,  with  her  chief  works.  Where  does  she  show  the  influence  of  Ten- 
nyson; where  the  humanitarian  interest  of  her  age;  where  her  enthu- 
siasm for  Italian  liberty;  where  the  influence  of  the  novel-writers  of 
her  time  ? 

State  the  leading  facts  of  Arnold's  life.  What,  in  general,  is  his 
poetic  attitude  toward  religion  and  human  life  ?  How,  in  matters  of 
faith,  does  he  stand  contrasted  with  Browning;  how  with  Tennyson  ? 
Note  that,  though  he  is  in  feeling  a  romantic  poet,  and  born  in  an  age 
when  romanticism  was  prevalent  in  literature,  he  attempts  to  give 
his  work  classic  form.  What  great  poet  of  the  seventeenth  century 
does  he  resemble  in  this  respect  ?  If  possible  read  "  Sohrab  and  Rus- 
tum,"  the  masterpiece  among  Arnold's  longer  poems,  noting  particularly 
the  romantic  strangeness  and  picturesqueness  of  the  story,  together 
with  the  classic  calmness  and  "  poise  "  of  the  style  in  which  it  is  told. 
With  what  three  other  great  English  elegies  may  "  Thyrsis "  be 
grouped  ?  With  what  kind  of  writing  was  Arnold  chiefly  occupied 
in  his  later  years  ?  Explain,  as  clearly  as  possible,  what  Arnold  meant 
by  the  catch-words,  "  Perfection,"  "  Culture,"  and  "  Philistinism.^ 

What  point  of  resemblance  is  noticeable  between  the  literary  positions 
of  Arnold  and  Ruskin.  Into  what  two  main  periods  was  Ruskin's 
literary  life  divided  ?  Name  two  or  three  works  of  each  period.  Note 
Ruskin's  theory  of  the  relation  between  art  and  the  ethical  nature; 
between  art  and  the  society  where  it  is  produced.  What  was  Ruskin's 
great  service  to  political  economy  ?    Read  "  Sesame  and  Lilies  "  as  a 


332  The  Nineteenth  Century 

typical  example  of  Ruskin's  style  and  thought.    In  what  respect  does 
Ruskin's  later  life  reflect  the  social  conscience  of  the  Victorian  age  ? 

READING  GUIDE.— Class  reading  of  the  authors  treated  in  this 
chapter  will  naturally  vary  greatly,  according  to  the  taste  of  the  teacher 
and  of  the  student,  and  the  time  at  their  disposal.  A  selection  from 
the  following  list  will  meet  most  cases. 

Macaulay:  Essays  on  Milton,  on  Addison,  and  on  Johnson.  These, 
together  with  the  essay  on  Goldsmith,  are  given  in  Numbers  102,  103, 
and  104,  of  the  Riverside  Literature  series. 

Carlyle:  Essays  on  Burns,  on  Boswell's  "Johnson"  (contrast  with 
Macaulay's  treatment);  "The  Hero  as  Poet"  and  "The  Hero  as  Man 
of  Letters,"  from  "Heroes  and  Hero-Worship."  These  are  included  in 
the  Selections  from  Carlyle  by  H.  W.  Boynton  (Allyn  &  Bacon). 

Tennyson:  "The  Lotus-Eaters,"  "The  Lady  of  Shalott,"  "A  Dream 
of  Fair  Women,"  "The  Palace  of  Art,"  "The  Miller's  Daughter," 
"Locksley  Hall,"  "Ulysses,"  "Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade,"  "The 
Revenge,"  ode  on  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  "Rizpah,"  "The  Daisy," 
"Bugle  Song"  and  "Tears,  Idle  Tears"  from  "The  Princess";  "The 
Coming  of  Arthur,"  "Guinevere,"  and  "The  Passing  of  Arthur,"  from 
"Idylls  of  the  King";  "The  Poet,"  "Of  Old  Sat  Freedom  on  the 
Heights,"  "Flower  in  the  Crannied  Wall,"  "The  Higher  Pantheism," 
"  Merlin  and  the  Gleam,"  "  Crossing  the  Bar."  All  these  poems,  with 
selections  from  "Maud"  and  from  "In  Memoriam,"  are  included  in  a 
volume  edited  by  H.  van  Dyke,  in  the  Athenasum  Press  series  (Ginn). 

Browning:  Short  Poems — "How  They  Brought  the  Good  News  from 
Ghent  to  Aix,"  "Cavalier  Tunes,"  "The  Lost  Leader,"  "Meeting  at 
Night  and  Parting  at  Morning,"  "Evelyn  Hope,"  "Home  Thoughts 
from  Abroad,"  "My  Star,"  "Memorabilia,"  "The  Patriot,"  "The  Boy 
and  the  Angel,"  "The  Englishman  in  Italy,"  "One  Word  More,"  "Abt 
Vogler,"  "Rabbi  Ben  Ezra,"  "Prospice,"  "Herve"  Riel,"  "Over  the  Sea 
Our  Galleys  Went"  (from  "Paracelsus"),  "Never  the  Time  and  the 
Place,"  "Epilogue  to  Asolando."  Longer  Poems — "Fra  Lippo  Lippi," 
"Andrea  del  Sarto,"  "Epistle  of  Karshish  the  Arab  Physician,"  "Saul," 
"The  Flight  of  the  Duchess,"  "Pippa  Passes,"  "Pompilia"  and  "Ca- 
ponsacchi"  from  "The  Ring  and  the  Book."  A  good  selection  from 
Browning's  shorter  poems  is  edited  by  F.  T.  Baker,  in  Macmillan's 
Pocket  series. 

Mrs,  Browning:  "The  Cry  of  the  Children,"  "Cowper's  Grave," 


Reading  Guide  333 

"Rhyme  of  the  Duchess  May,"  "The  Great  God  Pan,"  a  few  of  the 
"Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese."  Selections  from  Mrs.  Browning's 
Shorter  Poems,  by  H.  E.  Hershey,  in  Macmillan's  Pocket  series,  is 
recommended. 

Arnold:  Poetry— "Dover  Beach,"  "Obermann,"  "A  Summer  Night," 
"Self-Dependence,"  "The  Scholar  Gypsy,"  "Thyrsis,"  "Sohrab  and 
Rustum."  Selected  poems  in  Maynard's  English  Classics.  Prose — 
"On  Translating  Homer,"  essays  on  Wordsworth,  on  Milton,  and  on 
Gray  (from  "Essays  in  Criticism"),  essays  on  Emerson  and  on  Num- 
bers (from  "Discourses  in  America"),  selections  from  "Culture  and 
Anarchy,"  given  in  Number  68  of  Maynard's  English  Classics. 

Ruskin:  "Sesame  and  Lilies,"  "Crown  of  Wild  Olive,"  "Unto  This 
Last,"  selections  from  "Modern  Painters,"  given  in  Number  48  of 
Maynard's  English  Classics.  Comprehensive  selections  from  Ruskin, 
with  critical  comment,  are  edited  in  one  volume,  by  Mrs.  L.  G.  Huf- 
ford  (Ginn). 

Texts:  Besides  the  editions  already  mentioned,  the  following  may  be 
found  useful — "Macaulay's  Essays"  (twenty-seven  essays),  and  "Lays 
of  Ancient  Rome,"  in  a  single  volume  (Longmans);  "Carlyle's  Critical 
and  Miscellaneous  Essays,"  in  one  volume  (Appleton);  "Heroes  and 
Hero-Worship "  (Athenaeum  Press  series,  and  in  Cassell's  National 
Library);  "Past  and  Present"  and  "Sartor  Resartus,"  in  one  volume 
(Harpers);  "Selections  from  Tennyson's  Shorter  Poems,"  edited  by 
C.  R.  Nutter,  in  Macmillan's  Pocket  series;  "The  Princess"  and  "Idylls 
of  the  King"  in  same  series,  also  in  Maynard's  English  Classics,  River- 
side Literature  series,  etc.;  "Browning's  Selected  Poems"  (Harpers), 
"Principal  Shorter  Poems"  (Appleton),  selections  also  in  Maynard's 
English  Classics;  Arnold,  "Selected  Poems"  in  Golden  Treasury  series, 
"Selections  from  Prose  Writings,"  by  L.  E.  Gates  (Holt);  Ruskin, 
"Wild  Olive"  and  "Munera  Pulveris,"  in  one  volume  (U.  S.  Book 
Co.),  "Wild  Olive"  and  "Sesame  and  Lilies,"  one  volume  (Burt). 

Biography  and  Criticism. — Life  of  Macaulay,  by  J.  A.  C.  Morison, 
in  the  English  Men  of  Letters;  the  "Life  of  Macaulay,"  by  G.  O. 
Trevelyan,  is  one  of  the  great  biographies  of  English  literature,  but  is 
too  voluminous  for  school  use.  The  life  of  Carlyle,  by  R.  Garnett, 
in  the  Great  Writers  series,  is  more  satisfactory  than  the  one  given  in 
the  English  Men  of  Letters;  an  essay  on  Carlyle  occurs  in  Lowell's 
"My  Study  Windows."  The  life  of  Tennyson,  by  A.  Lyall,  English 
Men  of  Letters,  is  the  best  for  ordinary  use;  H.  van  Dyke's  study. 


334  The  Nineteenth  Century 

"The  Poetry  of  Tennyson,"  is  the  best  among  the  many  commentaries 
upon  his  work.  The  life  of  Browning,'  by  W.  Sharp,  Great  Writers 
series,  and  by  G.  K.  Chesterton,  English  Men  of  Letters,  supplement 
each  other  well;  the  best  aid  to  an  understanding  of  Browning  for  begin- 
ners, is  H.  Corson's  "Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Browning"  (Heath). 
An  excellent  study  of  Arnold  is  prefixed  to  the  volume  of  "Selections" 
by  L.  E.  Gates,  mentioned  above.  Of  Ruskin's  life,  especially  his  early 
years,  his  autobiography  entitled  "Praeterita"  is  the  best  account;  Ruskin, 
in  the  English  Men  of  Letters  series,  is  by  F.  Harrison.  Among  the 
critical  commentaries  may  be  mentioned  "  The  Work  of  John  Ruskin," 
by  C.  Waldstein  (Harpers)  and  "John  Ruskin,  Social  Reformer,"  by 
J.  A.  Hobson. 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE  NINETEENTH-CENTURY  NOVEL 

I.    INTRODUCTION 

The  novel  of  the  nineteenth  century  is  broader  and  more 
complex  than  that  of  the  eighteenth,  by  virtue  of  the  greater 
breadth  and  complexity  of  the  life  with  which  it  has  to  deal. 
The  world  of  fiction  in  the  eighteenth  century  is  a  small  one ; 
its  characters  are,  with  a  few  notable  exceptions,  drawn 
from  the  leisure  class  and  its  dependents;  they  have  usually 
no  business  in  life  beyond  carrying  on  the  action  of  the  story. 
But  in  the  nineteenth  century  we  have  novels  which  deal 
with  the  life  of  the  sea,  the  army,  crime,  sport,  commerce, 
labor,  politics,  and  the  church,  and  with  the  special  dif- 
ficulties, dangers,  and  temptations  which  each  career  in- 
volves. Again,  the  increase  in  knowledge  of  the  past,  and 
of  remote  parts  of  the  world,  which  the  century  has  brought, 
has  thrown  open  to  the  romancer  two  great  new  fields. 
Finally,  the  deeper  thought  of  the  century,  bearing  fru,it  in 
rapid  social  changes,  has  given  to  the  novel  of  purpose  greater 
dignity  and  power.  The  attempt  to  reform  government  and 
institutions,  the  labor  movement,  the  so-called  conflict  be- 
tween science  and  faith,  all  have  been  reflected  in  novels, 
and  have  in  turn  been  influenced  by  them.  The  nineteenth- 
century  novel  is  therefore  to  be  regarded  not  only  as  a  vast 
and  comprehensive  picture  of  life,  but  as  a  powerful  force 
acting  upon  society. 

II.    JANE   AUSTEN    (1775-1817) 

Jane  Austen's  Life. — The  earliest  of  nineteenth-century 
novelists,  however,  Jane  Austen,  is  not  representative  of  the 
wider  scope  of  the  novel  in  the  new  period,  but  is  remark, 
able  for  her  perfection  in  handling  the  limited  interests  of 

325 


336        The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

eighteenth-century  fiction.  Miss  Austen  was  the  daughter  of 
a  clergyman  and,  except-  for  an  occasional  visit  to  a  water- 
ing-place like  Bath  or  Lyme,  she  spent  her  youth  in  a  country 
parish.  Her  acquaintance  included  the  families  of  country 
gentlemen,  clergymen,  and  naval  officers — for  her  brothers 
were  in  the  navy.  The  chief  business  of  these  people,  as 
Miss  Austen  saw  them,  was  attention  to  social  duties,  and 
the  chief  subject  of  their  thought  was  matrimony.  This 
world,  and  the  influences  at  work  there,  Miss  Austen  repre- 
sents in  her  novels ;  outside  of  it  she  never  steps. 

Her  Satiric  Purpose. — Miss  Austen,  like  Fielding,  began 
her  studies  of  real  life  with  something  of  a  satiric  purpose. 
Two  of  her  early  stories,  Northanger  Abbey  and  Sense  and 
Sensibility,  were  written  in  order  to  oppose  to  the  impossible 
situations  and  strained  emotions  of  the  romanticists  and 
sentimentalists  a  humorously  sensible  picture  of  life  and 
love  as  they  are.  In  the  former  she  gives  us  a  heroine  who 
starts  with  a  "thin  awkward  figure,  a  sallow  skin,  without 
color,  dark  lank  hair,  and  strong  features,"  and  who  wins 
an  admirable  husband,  though  "his  affection  originated  in 
nothing  better  than  a  persuasion  of  her  partiality  for  him." 
The  keynote  of  Sense  and  Sensibility  is  expressed  in  the 
remark,  "  Sense  is  the  foundation  on  which  everything  good 
may  be  based."  In  the  novels  which  followed,  "Pride  and 
Prejudice,  Mansfield  Park,  and  Emma,  Miss  Austen  carries 
farther  her  minute  observation  of  fife,  sharpened  by  satirical 
comment.  One  suspects  that  she  shared  thoroughly  in  the 
view  of  life  put  forth  by  Mr.  Bennet  in  Pride  and  Preju- 
dice, "For  what  do  we  live  but  to  make  sport  for  our  neigh- 
bors and  to  laugh  at  them  in  our  turn?" 

"Pride  and  Prejudice." — Pride  and  Prejudice  is  Miss 
Austen's  masterpiece.  There  she  shows  her  skill  in  con- 
structing a  plot.  There  also  she  is  at  her  best  in  creating 
a  background  of  minor  characters  drawn  from  the  world 
of  provincial  folk  which  she  knew — cynical  Mr.  Bennet 
and  his  fatuous  wife;  Mary  Bennet  the  pedant,  and  Lydia 
the  flirt;  Mr.  Collins,  the  type  of  pretentious  conceit,  and 
Sir  William  Lucas,  of  feeble  dulness.  These  "humors" 
Miss  Austen  develops  chiefly  in  speech,  by  her  wonderful 


Jane  Austen  337 

faculty  of  saying  the  thing  that  belongs  to  the  character 
at  the  moment.  Not  only  is  the  proper  sentiment  caught, 
but  the  turn  of  phrase,  the  manner,  almost  the  modulation 
of  the  voice.  And  not  only  is  this  true  of  the  limited  char- 
acters who  act  always  in  the  same  way;  in  the  sustained 
scenes  between  the  more  developed  persons,  where  the  dia- 
logue is  more  highly  charged  with  meaning,  Miss  Austen 
shows  dramatic  power  of  the  highest  order. 

Miss  Austen's  stories  are  the  most  perfect  examples  of  the 
eighteenth-century  novel  of  manners,  though  by  virtue  of 
their  technical  skill  they  seem  to  belong  almost  to  our  own 
day.  In  striking  contrast  to  the  petty,  provincial  world 
which  she  mastered  so  thoroughly,  is  the  great  field  of  history 
and  romance  brought  before  us  in  the  novels  of  her  contem- 
porary, Sir  Walter  Scott. 

III.    SIR   WALTER   SCOTT    (1771-1832) 

Scott's  Early  •  Life.  —  Scott  was  born  in  Edinburgh, 
August  15,  1771,  of  a  family  famous  in  the  border  wars, 
and  in  the  long  struggle  of  the  Stuarts  for  the  throne.  His 
father,  however,  had  forsaken  the  venturesome  life  of  his 
ancestors  and  had  become  an  attorney.  He  sought  to  bring 
up  his  son  to  the  same  profession,  and  did  give  to  the  lat- 
ter's  character  that  strong  bent  toward  system  and  industry 
which  he  never  lost.  The  young  Walter,  in  spite  of  a 
slight  lameness,  the  result  of  an  illness  in  childhood,  was 
distinguished  for  activity  in  bodily  sports;  and  as  a  young 
man  he  found  satisfaction  for  his  roving  disposition  in  jour- 
neys through  the  wilder  parts  of  Scotland — the  Cheviots  and 
the  Highlands.  On  these  expeditions  he  learned  to  know 
types  of  Scotch  character,  as  well  as  the  legends  and  tradi- 
tions of  Scotch  history  of  which  he  afterward  made  such 
brilliant  use.  As  a  youth  Scott  was  much  in  the  company 
of  persons  who  stimulated  and  fed  his  interest  in  the  past. 
The  century  before  his  birth  had  been  one  full  of  excite- 
ment. In  Scotland  the  Puritans,  under  the  name  Covenant- 
ers, had  fought  their  last  battles  against  the  restored  Stuarts; 
and  Scotland  had  been  the  scene  of  the  romantic  attempts 


' 


338  The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

of  the  princes  of  that  exiled  house  to  regain  their  throne  m 
1 71 5  and  1745.  To  these  things  Scott  was  brought  near  by 
the  companionship  of  his  grandfather — whose  father  had  been 
a  famous  adherent  of  the  Stuarts,  known  as  "  Beardie  "  be- 
cause of  his  refusal  to  cut  his  beard  until  that  family  should 
be  restored — and  by  the  conversation  of  his  mother.  Of 
her  he  wrote  much  later:  "If  I  have  been  able  to  do  any- 
thing in  the  way  of  painting  the  past  times  it  is  very  much 
from  the  studies  with  which  she  presented  me." 

Scott  at  Abbotsford. — Scott  was  married  in  1797  to  the 
daughter  of  one  of  the  French  exiles  from  the  Revolution. 
He  lived  first  in  a  cottage  at  Lasswade,  a  few  miles  from 
Edinburgh.  Then  in  1804  he  moved  to  Ashestiel,  in  Sel- 
kirkshire, of  which  county  he  had  been  made  sheriff.  The 
success  of  his  poems,  however,  enabled  him  in  181 2  to  pur- 
chase the  estate  of  Abbotsford,  with  which  his  name  is  for- 
ever connected.  Scott  at  Abbotsford  is  charmingly  de- 
scribed for  us  by  Washington  Irving,  who  visited  him  in 
181 7.  "  He  was  tall  and  of  a  large  and  powerful  frame.  His 
dress  was  simple,  and  almost  rustic.  An  old  green  shoot- 
ing coat  with  a  dog-whistle  at  the  button-hole,  brown  linen 
pantaloons,  stout  shoes  that  tied  at  the  ankles,  and  a  white 
hat  that  had  seen  service.  He  came  limping  up  the  gravel- 
walk,  aiding  himself  by  a  stout  walking-staff,  but  moving 
rapidly  and  with  vigor.  By  his  side  jogged  along  a  large, 
iron-gray  stag-hound  of  most  grave  demeanor,  who  took  no 
part  in  the  clamor  of  the  canine  rabble,  but  seemed  to  con- 
sider himself  bound  for  the  dignity  of  the  house  to  give  me  a 
courteous  reception."  An  account  of  the  life  at  Abbotsford 
in  later  years,  when  Scott  had  replaced  his  cottage  by  a 
baronial  castle,  and  had  developed  his  establishment  to 
feudal  magnificence,  is  given  by  Lockhart  in  his  Life  of 
Scott.  It  was  Scott's  custom  to  write  conscientiously  during 
the  early  morning,  but,  his  task  finished,  he  delighted  to  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  cavalcade  of  guests  and  retainers 
for  a  hunting  expedition,  or  a  ride  to  the  Yarrow,  or  to  Dry- 
burgh  Abbey. 

To  support  this  train  of  life,  Scott  relied  on  the  profits  of 
a  secret  partnership  which  he  had  formed  with  two  brothers 


SIR  WALTER  SCOTT 
From  a  painting  by  C.  R.  Leslie,  R.A. 


340  The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

named  Ballantyne,  in  a  printing  and  publishing  business. 
The  firm  became  considerably  embarrassed  about  the  time 
of  the  purchase  of  Abbotsford,  and  just  then,  too,  Scott's 
popularity  as  a  poet  was  on  the  wane.  He  retrieved  his 
doubtful  fortunes,  however,  when  in  i8i4.he  took  up  and  fin- 
ished a  tale  begun  some  nine  years  earlier,  and  published  it 
under  the  title  Waverley.  This  was  the  first  of  the  great 
series  of  romances  which  fascinated  the  whole  reading  world. 
The  name  of  Scott  was  not  at  first  connected  with  them,  but 
their  authorship  soon  became  an  open  secret.  With  the 
control  of  the  Waverley  novels  in  their  hands  the  Ballantynes 
prospered,  but  in  the  end  the  mismanagement  of  the  active 
partners  and  Scott's  own  etravaxgance  resulted  in  the  failure 
of  the  firm  for  ^117,000,  all  of  which  Scott  assumed.  The 
last  years  of  his  life  were  a  splendid  struggle  to  pay  this  debt. 
In  fact  he  did  earn  more  than  half  of  the  needed  sum,  and 
the  rest  was  discharged  by  the  sale  of  his  earlier  copyrights. 
But  the  effort  broke  him  physically  and  mentally,  and  hast- 
ened his  death,  which  came  in  1832.  Carlyle,  who  saw  him 
in  these  last  years  on  the  Edinburgh  streets,  made  a  sketch 
of  him  which  must  stand  beside  Irving's.  "Alas,  his  fine 
Scotch  face  with  its  shaggy  honesty,  sagacity,  and  goodness 
was  all  worn  with  care,  the  joy  all  fled  from  it; — ploughed 
deep  with  labor  and  sorrow.  We  shall  never  forget  it;  we 
shall  never  see  it  again.  Adieu,  Sir  Walter,  pride  of  all 
Scotchmen,  take  our  proud  and  sad  farewell." 

Scott's  Character. — Scott's  life  was  a  blending  of  the  old 
and  the  new.  He  tried  to  be  both  a  feudal  lord  and  a  modern 
business  man,  and  both  attempts  are  curiously  connected 
with  his  literary  career.  He  wrote  partly  for  the  pleasure  of 
creating  in  fiction  the  feudal  ideal  that  he  sought  to  realize 
at  Abbotsford,  partly  for  the  money  with  which  to  sustain 
that  experiment.  In  this  almost  mercantile  aspect  of  his 
literary  life  there  is  something  essentially  unromantic,  and 
indeed  in  many  traits  of  character  Scott  has  little  likeness  to 
his  romantic  contemporaries.  We  find  in  him  nothing  of 
the  spiritual  experience,  nothing  of  the  revolt  against  the 
conventions  of  the  political  and  social  world,  that  mark  Cole- 
ridge and  Shelley.    But  Scott  had,  on  the  other  hand,  a  love 


Sir  Walter  Scott  341 

of  Scotland,  of  her  scenery,  of  her  history,  of  her  people,  which 
may  be  called  the  romantic  passion  of  his  life. 

The  Scotch  Novels. — It  is  worthy  of  note  that  in  his  first 
novel  Scott  recognized  his  chief  strength  to  be  in  his  knowl- 
edge of  his  native  land  and  its  people.  After  some  hesitation 
at  the  outset,  he  starts  his  hero  for  Scotland  and  plunges  him 
into  a  society  composed  of  quaint  Scotch  types, — Baron  Brad- 
wardine,  the  type  of  old-fashioned  feudal  prejudice,  Laird 
Balmawhapple,  Baillie  MacWheeble,  with  David  Gellatley 
and  his  mother,  old  Janet,  for  dependents.  Waverley  be- 
comes involved  in  the  attempt  of  the  Young  Pretender  to 
win  the  throne  in  1745,  and  Scott  takes  the  opportunity  to 
reinforce  his  story  by  the  introduction  of  historical  char- 
acters and  events, — a  device  of  which  he  thus  early  showed 
his  mastery. 

In  the  novels  which  immediately  followed  Waverley,  Scott 
dealt  with  the  material  which  he  had  most  successfully  at 
command — Scotch  life  in  the  eighteenth  century,  which  he 
knew  at  first-hand  or  from  recent  tradition.  These  books 
are  Guy  Mannering  (181 5)  and  The  Antiquary  (1 816),  both 
of  which  may  be  called  novels  of  private  life.  In  later  works 
he  went  into  the  more  remote  past,  and  relied  more  upon 
historical  sources.  In  Old  Mortality  (181 6)  he  treated  the 
revolt  of  the  Covenanters  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  and 
in  The  Abbot  (1820)  and  The  Monastery  (1820)  the  tragic 
events  surrounding  the  life  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  In 
Redgauntlet  (1824)  he  returned  to  the  eighteenth  century, 
and  to  the  last  plots  of  the  Jacobites  to  bring  the  Pretender 
to  the  throne. 

Scotch  Characters. — In  this  series  of  novels  we  find  some 
of  Scott's  best  characters,  drawn  from  the  humble  life  of 
both  Highlands  and  Lowlands.  In  such  characters  Scott 
worked  with  his  eye  upon  the  object;  many  of  them  have 
been  recognized  as  life-like  portraits  of  persons  whom  he 
met  in  his  wanderings,  or  of  dependents  like  Tom  Purdie, 
his  huntsman.  These  local  types  show  us  the  humor  and 
the  pathos  of  humanity  warped  by  circumstances  into  a  hun- 
dred fantastic  forms,  but  capable  of  sometimes  throwing  it- 
self into  an  attitude  of  noble  disinterestedness,  of  dignified 


342  The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

endurance,  or  of  tragic  despair.  When  in  Waverley  the  his- 
toric drama  of  the  rising  of  1745  has  played  itself  out, 
and  the  love-story  has  been  tamely  concluded,  the  figure 
that  remains  with  us  as  we  close  the  book,  is  that  of  Evan 
Dhu,  the  humble  follower  of  the  Highland  chief  Vich  Ian 
Vohr,  standing  at  the  condemnation  of  his  master,  and  pledg- 
ing himself  and  six  of  the  clan  to  die  in  his  stead.  "  If 
the  Saxon  gentlemen  are  laughing,"  he  said,  "because  a 
poor  man,  such  as  me,  thinks  my  life  or  the  life  of  six  of  my 
degree  is  worth  that  of  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  it's  like  enough  they 
may  be  very  right;  but  if  they  laugh  because  they  think  I 
would  not  keep  my  word,  and  come  back  to  redeem  him, 
they  ken  neither  the  heart  of  a  Hielandman,  nor  the  honour 
of  a  gentleman."  Among  such  types  as  these  we  look  for 
Scott's  greatest  characters:  Edie  Ochiltree  in  The  Anti- 
quary, Baillie  Jarvie  in  Rob  Roy,  Peter  Peebles  in  Red- 
gauntlet,  and  many  more  who  stand  out  from  the  novels 
as  complete  and  substantial  figures  in  which  the  race  of 
Scotchmen  has  expressed  itself  forever.  Only  once,  however, 
did  Scott  trust  entirely  to  this  element  of  native  strength. 
In  The  Heart  of  Midlothian  (18 18),  he  puts  aside  all  con- 
ventional plot,  and  gives  us  instead  the  story  of  Jeanie  Deans 
the  peasant  girl,  who  goes  to  London  to  beg  her  sister's  fife. 

Among  these  local  Scotch  types  there  is  a  group  of  char- 
acters whom  Scott  used  especially  to  appeal  to  the  romantic 
sense  of  his  readers.  The  fantastic  figures  which  stand  out 
of  the  background,  Madge  Wildfire  in  The  Heart  0}  Midlo- 
thian, Meg  Merrilies  in  Guy  Mannering,  and  Noma  of  the 
Fitful  Head  in  The  Pirate  are  far  more  terrible  and  myster- 
ious in  their  reality  than  the  imagined  horrors  of  many  of 
Scott's  rivals. 

Description  and  Incident. — In  the  Scotch  novels,  also,  we 
find  Scott's  descriptive  power  at  its  best.  He  himself  la- 
mented that  he  had  not  "the  eye  of  a  painter  to  dissect  the 
various  parts  of  the  scene,  to  comprehend  how  one  bore  upon 
the  other,  to  estimate  the  effect  which  various  features  of 
•the  view  had  in  producing  its  leading  and  general  effect." 
But,"  he  adds,  "show  me  an  old  castle,  and  I  was  at  home 
at  once,  filled  it  with  its  combatants  in  their  proper  costume, 


Sir  Walter  Scott  343 

and  overwhelmed  my  readers  by  the  enthusiasm  of  my  de- 
scription." And  he  goes  on  to  tell  how  in  crossing  Magus 
Moor  he  gave  such  an  account  of  the  assassination  of  the 
Bishop  of  St.  Andrews  that  one  of  his  fellow-travellers  com- 
plained that  his  night's  sleep  was  frightened  away.  Scott 
loved  scenery  as  a  background  for  picturesque  action.  As 
Stevenson  remarks,  some  places  seem  actually  to  cry  out 
for  an  appropriate  occurrence ;  and  Scott's  minute  acquaint- 
ance with  Scotch  history  suggested  to  him  the  incidents  by 
which  he  gives  to  his  scenes  their  final  reality,  and  makes 
them  an  essential  part  in  the  dramatic  action  of  his  story.  A 
noteworthy  instance  of  this  faculty  occurs  in  Old  Mortality, 
where  Morton  visits  Balfour  of  Burley  in  the  cave  reached  by 
a  single  tree-trunk  bridging  the  chasm  of  a  waterfall.  As 
Morton  approaches  he  hears  the  shouts  and  screams  of  the 
old  Covenanter,  in  whom  religious  fury  has  become  in- 
sanity; and  at  length  he  sees  the  fearful  figure  of  Burley 
in  strife  with  the  fiends  which  beset  him.  The  effect  of 
threatening  scenery  and  of  the  terror  of  madness  is  brought 
to  a  focus,  as  it  were,  at  the  instant  when  Burley  sends  the 
tree  crashing  into  the  abyss,  leaving  Morton  to  jump  for 
his  life. 

Scott's  Use  of  History. — In  his  later  novels  Scott  went 
more  and  more  outside  of  Scotland  for  material.  In  Ivanhoe 
(1820)  he  treated  the  return  of  Richard  I.  to  his  kingdom; 
in  Kenilworth  (1821),  the  intrigues  of  Leicester  in  seeking  to 
marry  Queen  Elizabeth;  in  The  Fortunes  of  Nigel  (1822),  the 
time  of  James  I.  In  Quentin  Durward  (1823)  he  went  to  the 
continent,  picturing  the  struggle  of  Louis  XL  with  Charles 
the  Bold,  and  in  The  Talisman  (1825)  that  of  Richard  I.  with 
Saladin.  In  these  English  and  continental  novels  it  must  be 
admitted  that  historical  interest  and  study  did  not  supply  all 
that  personal  knowledge  and  enthusiasm  gave  to  the  Scotch. 
Yet  in  the  former  we  find  some  of  Scott's  most  brilliant  por- 
traits of  historical  characters,  and  his  reconstructions  of  social 
and  political  conditions  are  among  the  triumphs  of  the  his- 
torical imagination.  And  especially  do  these  stories  display 
Scott's  mastery  of  the  art  of  the  historical  novel — his  power 
of  making  history  live  by  virtue  of  its  connection  with  fiction, 


J44  The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

.and  of  giving  interest  and  dignity  to  fiction  by  making  it  turn 
on  the  progress  of  great  historical  movements. 

Scott's  Example. — Since  Scott's  day  many  novelists — 
Dickens,  Thackeray,  Charles  Kingsley,  and  George  Eliot, 
have  made  attempts  in  the  historical  field.  Bulwer  Lytton's 
Last  Days  of  Pompeii  is  the  best  known  of  his  many  volumes. 
In  The  Cloister  and  the  Hearth  by  Charles  Reade,  we  have 
the  author's  masterpiece,  and  one  of  the  best  historical  novels 
since  Scott.  This  vogue  of  the  historical  novel  must  be  at- 
tributed in  large  part  to  Scott's  example. 

In  general,  however,  the  romantic  temper,  which  first 
commended  historical  material  to  the  novelist,  gave  place, 
after  Scott's  death,  to  a  different  mood.  Scott's  romantic 
pictures  of  the  feudal  past  were  flattering  to  a  people  strug- 
gling, as  they  thought,  to  preserve  the  relics  of  that  past 
from  the  engulfing  revolution.  But  after  the  immediate 
effect  of  the  Napoleonic  wars  had  passed  away,  new  ideas 
began  to  make  progress  in  England,  broadening  the  current 
of  English  thought  and  life.  The  rapidity  of  social  changes 
beginning  with  the  Reform  Bill  of  1832,  served  to  draw  men's 
attention  to  the  life  of  their  own  time.  And  while  the  taste 
for  the  new  and  the  startling  in  literature  still  persisted,  it 
was  satisfied  chiefly,  as  in  Defoe's  time,  by  the  presentation 
of  the  exciting  aspects  of  present-day  society.  Of  these 
tendencies  the  best  examples  are  to  be  found  in  the  works 
of  Edward  Bulwer  Lytton  (1803-1873),  Charles  Reade 
(1814-1884),  and  Charles  Dickens. 

IV.    CHARLES   DICKENS    (1812-1870) 

Dickens's  Life. — Charles  Dickens  was  born  at  Portsea, 
where  his  father  was  a  navy  clerk  in  poor  circumstances. 
The  family  moved  to  Chatham,  and  thence  to  London,  where 
the  elder  Dickens  was  arrested  for  debt,  his  family  accom- 
panying him  to  the  Marshalsea  Prison.  His  son,  a  boy  of 
ten  years,  was  thought  old  enough  to  contribute  his  mite 
toward  the  parents'  necessities,  and  was  accordingly  put  at 
work  in  a  blacking  warehouse,  sleeping  beneath  a  counter, 
and  spending  his  Sundays — his  few  hours  of  brightness  in 


Charles  Dickens  345 

these  wretched  weeks — in  the  prison  with  his  family.  When 
matters  improved  a  little,  Charles  Dickens  was  given  a  few 
years  of  school  before  he  was  obliged  to  take  up  again  the 
part  of  bread-winner,  first  as  a  lawyer's  clerk,  and  then  as 
a  reporter.  His  education  remained  deficient,  but  he  brought 
from  these  years  of  desperate  struggle  with  life  a  character 
of  wonderful  energy  and  resolution,  a  wide  knowledge  of 
the  under  world,  and  a  deep  sympathy  with  its  inhabitants — 
all  of  which  played  a  part  in  his  subsequent  career. 

It  was  while  Dickens,  then  about  twenty,  was  a  reporter 
that  he  began  to  write  sketches  of  London  life  for  the  news- 
papers. These  were  collected  in  1836  as  Sketches  by  Boz, 
and  from  this  time  forth  Dickens's  fortune  was  changed.  He 
became  editor  of  magazines,  and,  for  a  time,  of  a  great  Lon- 
don newspaper ;  he  travelled  widely  in  Europe  and  America ; 
he  took  up  public  questions  and  attacked  social  wrongs.  And 
without  any  intermission  he  gave  to  the  public  that  famous 
series  of  novels  in  which  the  humors  of  English  life  were 
displayed  so  abundantly,  and  the  cause  of  the  suffering 
pleaded  so  eloquently.  Before  he  was  thirty  he  was  a  great 
writer;  and  before  he  was  forty,  a  notable  public  man.  No 
writer  in  English  ever  gathered  with  a  fuller  hand  the  rewards 
of  the  literary  calling.  It  is  true,  other  writers  have  made 
more  money,  or  have  won  peerages ;  but  none  has  had  in  his 
lifetime  so  wide  and  intensely  loyal  a  personal  following; 
none  has  had,  in  addition  to  money,  friends,  and  fame,  the 
peculiar  tribute  which  came  to  Dickens  from  vast  audiences 
gathered  together,  not  once  or  twice,  but  hundreds  of  times, 
in  scores  of  cities,  to  testify  by  "roaring  seas  of  applause" 
to  his  personal  triumph.  In  middle  life  Dickens  began  to 
give  semi-dramatic  public  readings  from  his  works,  and 
these  grew  to  be  his  chief  interest.  The  strain  and  excite- 
ment wore  him  out.  It  is  a  circumstance  as  tragic  in  its  way 
as  that  which  shadows  the  close  of  Scott's  life,  that  this  per- 
sonal triumph  was  the  direct  cause  of  Dickens's  deathini87o. 

Dickens's  Relation  to  the  Public. — Dickens's  peculiar  suc- 
cess calls  attention  to  the  prime  fact  in  his  authorship,  his 
nearness  to  his  public.  He  began  his  career  as  a  reporter,  in 
the  profession  which  is  most  immediately  of  the  people.    But 


346  The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

though  necessity  made  him  a  journalist,  he  wished  to  be  an 
actor.  As  a  young  man  he  tried  to  get  a  position  at  Covent 
Garden  Theatre.  For  years  he  was  the  leading  spirit  in  a 
famous  company  of  amateurs  who  played  in  various  cities  of 
England ;  and,  as  we  have  seen,  his  chief  interest  came  to  be 
his  public  readings.  These  two  professional  instincts  account 
for  much  in  Dickens's  work.  As  reporter  and  as  editor  he 
studied  his  public ;  as  actor,  he  taught  himself  to  play  upon 
it,  through  his  writings  and  his  dramatic  readings  from  them, 
with  incomparable  skill. 

Dickens's  Characters. — From  Dickens's  success  in  Sketches 
by  Boz  came,  in  1836,  an  engagement  to  write  the  letter- 
press for  a  series  of  cartoons  representing  the  humors  of 
sporting  life.  For  this  purpose  he  invented  the  "Pickwick 
Club,"  which  at  once  made  a  popular  hit.  The  death  of 
the  artist  who  was  engaged  upon  the  drawings  left  Dickenp 
free  to  widen  the  scope  of  the  adventures  of  the  club,  and  tc 
add  other  characters  without  stint.  The  complete  result 
was  a  great  book,  formless  as  to  plot,  crowded  with  humorous 
figures.  These  figures  are  given  with  broadly  exaggerated 
traits,  as  if  Dickens  had  always  in  mind  the  cartoon  which 
was  to  accompany  the  text.  The  characters  talk  freely, 
not  to  say  inexhaustibly,  and  all  differently.  But  the  au- 
thor's chief  resource  is  his  faculty  for  bringing  his  carica- 
tures into  contact  with  the  actual  world,  in  situations  that 
expose  their  oddities  in  high  relief.  Mr.  Tupman  as  a  lover, 
Mr.  Winkle  as  a  duellist  or  a  sportsman,  Mr.  Pickwick  in  a 
breach-of-promise  suit  with  the  Widow  Bardell,  the  Pickwick 
Club  contending  with  a  recalcitrant  horse,  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Stiggins  drunk  at  a  temperance  meeting — these  incongruities 
are  narrated  in  a  style  always  copious,  but  often  rapid  and 
piquant. 

In  his  later  novels  Dickens  improved  on  his  first  attempts. 
He  continued  to  be  a  caricaturist,  to  rely  on  distortions  and 
exaggerations  of  feature  or  of  manner,  but  his  pencil  became 
more  subtle  and  his  figures  more  significant.  Micawber 
"waiting  for  something  to  turn  up,"  Sairy  Gamp  haunted  by 
the  mythical  Mrs.  Harris,  'umble  Uriah  Heep,  sanctimonious 
Pecksniff,  cheerful  Mark  Tapley,  all  have  distinct  individ- 


III 

■'1 
... 

^^Wt 

'''iiSfci.           v 

m<      v>.s-^H 

CHARLES  DICKENS 


348  The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

uality,  yet  all  label  so  conveniently  common  attitudes  and 
habits  of  mind  that  we  use  their  names  freely  to  describe 
whole  classes  of  mankind. 

In  Pickwick  Dickens  is  purely  a  humorist ;  in  the  novels 
which  followed  he  created  figures  of  a  different  sort,  to  excite 
not  laughter,  but  loathing  and  terror.  In  the  portrayal  of 
these  types  also  he  gained  subtlety  with  practice.  Fagin 
and  Sykes  in  Oliver  Twist  (1838),  Quilp,  the  dwarf,  in  Old 
Curiosity  Shop  (1841),  monstrous  as  they  are,  do  not  haunt 
the  reader  with  the  terrible  suggestion  of  inhumanity  that 
lurks  behind  the  placid,  smiling  face  of  Mme.  Defarge  in  A 
Tale  0}  Two  Cities  (1859),  as  she  sits  in  front  of  the  guillo- 
tine, knitting,  and  counting  the  heads  as  they  fall.  In  the 
stories  just  mentioned  Dickens  showed  again  his  fertility  in 
inventing  situations  for  his  characters,  using  his  dramatic 
power  as  freely  in  melodrama  as  in  farce.  The  part  of 
Fagin  at  his  trial  and  in  prison  is  worked  out  as  if  for  the 
stage,  by  an  actor  careful  to  make  every  gesture,  every  ex- 
pression, tell  on  his  audience. 

His  Purpose. — A  third  type  of  character  which  Dickens 
developed,  and  which  in  his  time  made  immensely  for  his 
popularity,  was  the  victim  of  society — usually  a  child.  In  his 
second  novel,  Dickens  made  his  story  centre  about  a  child, 
Oliver  Twist,  and  from  that  time  forth  children  were  expected 
and  necessary  characters  in  his  novels.  Little  Nell,  Florence 
Dombey,  David  Copperfield,  represent  in  most  telling  form 
the  case  of  the  individual  against  society.  For  with  Dickens 
the  private  cruelty  which  his  malign  characters  inflict,  is 
almost  always  connected  with  social  wrong.  Bumble's  sav- 
age blow  at  Oliver  Twist  asking  for  more  food,  Little  Dorrit's 
life  in  the  Marshalsea,  are  carried  back  and  laid  at  the  door 
of  a  society  which  permitted  the  poor-house  and  the  debtor's 
prison  to  exist.  The  championship  of  the  individual  against 
institutions,  which  had  been  a  leading  motive  in  later  eigh- 
teenth-century fiction,  had  been  checked  by  the  reaction 
against  the  French  Revolution;  but  in  Dickens's  day  the 
"  redress  of  wrongs  "  had  become  again  a  great  public  move- 
ment. The  workings  of  later  romanticism  had  begun  to 
be  reflected  in  a  kind  of  sentimental  hatred  of  organized 


Charles  Dickens  349 

authority,  a  feeling  to  which  Dickens  constantly  appealed. 
Undoubtedly  there  was  something  theatrical  in  Dickens's 
adoption  of  social  wrong  as  a  motive  in  fiction,  but  there 
was  great  sincerity  also.  He  had  himself  known  the  lot  of 
the  persecuted ;  at  the  root  of  his  zeal  for  reform  was  the 
memory  of  his  own  bitter  childhood. 

Dickens's  Plots. — The  types  of  character  already  discussed 
were  sufficient  to  sustain  the  movement  of  Dickens's  earlier 
books,  which  were  usually  simple  in  structure.  In  most  of 
them  we  begin  with  the  hero  in  childhood,  and  follow  his 
personal  adventures  into  the  thick  of  a  plot  involving  the 
popular  romantic  material  of  the  day,  kidnapping,  murder, 
mob-justice,  and  other  incidents  of  criminal  life.  In  his 
later  books,  however,  Dickens  gained  the  power  of  con- 
structing elaborate  plots,  and  of  creating  characters  of  heroic 
dignity  and  tragic  intensity,  such  as  Sidney  Carton  in  The 
Tale  of  Two  Cities  and  Lady  Dedlock  in  Bleak  House  (1853). 
These  are  the  most  enduringly  powerful  of  his  novels,  but 
they  are  not  those  upon  which  his  fame  rests.  Dickens  is 
remembered  not  as  a  dramatic  artist  in  the  novel  form,  but 
as  a  showman  of  wonderful  resources.  He  is  master  of  a 
vast  and  fascinating  stage,  crowded  with  farcical  characters, 
with  grotesque  and  terrible  creatures,  more  devils  than  men, 
and  with  the  touching  forms  of  little  children.  The  action 
is  sometimes  merry,  sometimes  exciting,  sometimes  pathetic. 
We  have-  laughter,  and  horror,  and  tears ;  but  the  prevailing 
atmosphere  is  one  of  cheerfulness,  as  befits  a  great  Christmas 
pantomime. 

Dickens  dealt  in  the  main  with  the  world  of  his  own  day, 
but  his  spirit  was  not  that  of  a  realist  bent  on  representing 
things  as  they  are.  On  the  contrary,  his  humor  lies  largely 
in  exaggeration,  and  the  interest  of  his  stories  generally  in 
their  use  of  the  unusual  and  romantic  elements  in  life.  A 
further  step  in  bringing  the  novel  down  to  the  world  as  it 
exists  for  the  average  man  was  taken  by  Thackeray. 


350         The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 


V.   WILLIAM    MAKEPEACE  THACKERAY    (181I-1863) 

Thackeray's  Life. — Thackeray  was  born  in  Calcutta,  In- 
dia, in  181 1.  He  was  educated  at  the  Charter-House  School 
and  at  Cambridge.  He  gave  some  time  to  art  study  on  the 
Continent,  and  after  losing  his  small  patrimony  in  a  journ- 
alistic venture  he  tried  to  make  a  living  as  an  artist.  He 
applied,  indeed,  for  the  position  as  illustrator  of  Dickens's 
Pickwick  Papers.  Unsuccessful  in  this,  he  turned  to  liter- 
ature, and  became  a  contributor  to  Punch  and  to  Fraser's 
Magazine.  His  first  work  consisted  of  light  essays,  sketches 
of  travel,  and  burlesques  in  which  the  weaknesses  of  the 
romantic  school  are  cleverly  hit  off  in  imitations  of  Scott, 
Bulwer  and  others.  His  intention  to  write  of  the  world  as  it 
is  is  rather  broadly  proclaimed  in  his  first  considerable  tale, 
Catherine  (1839),  of  which  the  heroine  is  a  female  rogue, 
drawn  with  unsympathetic  realism  as  a  rebuke  to  the  sen- 
timental treatment  of  criminals  exemplified  by  Dickens's 
Nancy,  in  Oliver  Twist. 

Thackeray  gave  his  realistic  theories  larger  scope  in  Barry 
Lyndon  (1844),  a  spirited  account  of  the  exploits  of  an 
eighteenth-century  adventurer,  and  in  Vanity  Fair,  which 
was  published  in  parts  between  1846  and  1848.  This  at 
length  gave  Thackeray  an  assured  position  in  English  litera- 
ture, but  with  a  singular  distrust  in  his  future  he  made  va- 
rious attempts,  fortunately  unsuccessful,  to  escape  into  the 
civil  or  the  diplomatic  service.  Thrown  back  upon  his  real 
vocation,  he  produced  his  other  masterpieces,  Pendennis 
(1848-50),  Henry  Esmond  (1852),  The  Newcomes  (1853-55), 
and  The  Virginians  (1857-59).  Meanwhile  he  delivered  his 
lectures  on  The  English  Humourists  0}  the  Eighteenth  Century 
and  The  Four  Georges,  in  England  and  in  America.  In  i860 
he  became  editor  of  the  Cornhill  Magazine,  which  position  he 
resigned  shortly  before  his  death. 

Thackeray's  Temperament. — Thackeray  was  not  happy 
either  in  circumstances  or  altogether  in  temperament.  His 
long  period  of  unsuccess,  his  wife's  insanity,  which  came 
upon  her  soon  after  their  marriage,  and  his  own  ill-health, 


WILLIAM   MAKEPEACE  THACKERAY 
From  a  drawing  by  George  T.  Tobin 


352         The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

spoiled  much  of  his  life,  and  a  singular  quality  of  distrust 
and  indecision  subtracted  heavily  from  the  joy  of  what  was 
left.  He  lived  much  in  the  world  of  London  clubs  and 
society,  a  world  of  which  he  saw  and  pictured  the  pettiness 
and  the  insincerity  in  his  books,  but  in  which  he,  like  Charles 
Lamb,  found  a  necessary  stimulus  and  distraction.  Like 
Lamb  also,  he  hid  his  melancholy  behind  an  aspect  of  mirth, 
occasionally  a  little  boisterous  and  hollow,  but  usually  gentle 
and  almost  whimsically  honest  in  confessing  itself  to  be  but 
a  mask.  Thackeray  bore  his  own  burdens  with  brave  pa- 
tience, and  took  those  of  others  generously.  He  was  far 
from  being,  as  some  have  thought,  either  a  sentimentalist 
or  a  cynic;  he  was  in  all  ways  a  kind  and  gallant  gentleman. 

These  facts  are  important,  since,  more  than  most  writers 
of  fiction,  Thackeray  wrote  himself  into  his  books.  The 
form  of  his  novels  was  determined  in  a  way  by  his  short- 
comings. All  his  works  except  Esmond  were  published  in 
parts,  and,  with  natural  indolence  which  he  could  never  over- 
come, he  seldom  began  his  fresh  instalment  until  it  was 
actually  called  for,  and  had  to  be  done  in  a  hurry.  Natu- 
rally, his  novels  are  not  models  of  construction;  but  it  is 
to  be  said  that  this  loose  method  of  working  suited  hot  only 
Thackeray's  temperament,  but  also  his  artistic  problem. 
For  Thackeray  is  primarily  an  observer,  not  an  analyst.  He 
saw  life  with  the  wide  view  of  a  man  of  the  world.  To  have 
confined  his  multitude  of  characters  within  the  narrow  limits 
of  what  is  technically  called  a  plot  would  have  introduced  an 
element  of  unreality  into  his  books.  Again,  the  pressure  under 
which  he  worked  accounts  for  the  many  pages  of  comment 
which  he  gives  us  in  his  own  person — comment  that  filled 
out  his  number  nicely  when  invention  halted  and  the  story 
lagged.  As  a  result  Thackeray  is,  as  someone  has  said,  him- 
self the  chief  figure  in  his  novels.  In  the  preface  to  Vanity 
Fair  he  speaks  of  his  characters  as  a  set  of  puppets  whom 
he  can  make  dance  at  will.  He  is  the  showman,  and  hence 
the  most  important,  indeed  the  only  real,  person  in  the  show. 

"Vanity  Fair." — As  a  showman  Thackeray  is  incomparable. 
In  Vanity  Fair  he  has  arranged  his  stage  so  perfectly  that, 
but  for  his  reminder,  we  should  forget  that  it  is  a  stage,  and 


William  Makepeace  Thackeray  353 

should  think  of  it  as  a  peopled  world.  The  action  of  the 
book  revolves  about  the  heroines,  Becky  Sharp  and  Amelia 
Sedley — "the  famous  little  Becky  puppet, — pronounced  to 
be  uncommonly  flexible  in  the  joints  and  lively  on  the  wire: 
the  Amelia  Doll, — carved  and  dressed  with  the  greatest  care 
by  the  artist."  Both  represent  permanent  types,  Amelia, 
mild  and  incapable — a  parasite,  the  author  calls  her — living 
on  the  chivalrous  protection  of  Dobbin;  Becky,  keen  and 
competent,  making  her  world  for  herself,  levying  tribute  on 
every  man  who  crosses  her  path.  The  two  stories  begin 
together,  and  Thackeray  supplies  a  link  between  them  later 
in  Jos  Sedley;  but  in  the  end  he  gives  over  the  attempt  to 
unite  them,  and  lets  the  two  sets  of  characters  diverge  in  his 
novel  as  they  must  have  done  in  life. 

The  satire  with  which  Thackeray  treats  his  characters 
indicates  his  attitude  toward  the  world  which  he  pictures. 
In  the  metaphor  of  the  puppets  lurks  a  gleam  of  the  irony 
which  Swift  showed  in  his  sketch  of  society  as  Lilliput.  The 
title  too,  Vanity  Fair — Bunyan's  fair,  "where  is  sold  all 
sorts  of  vanity,  and  where  is  to  be  seen  juggling,  cheats, 
games,  plays,  fools,  apes,  knaves,  rogues,  and  that  of  every 
kind," — suggests  something  of  contempt  if  not  of  bitterness. 
The  roguishness  and  weakness  of  Thackeray's  puppets  has 
long  been  a  ground  for  calling  their  showman  a  cynic;  but 
Thackeray's  satire  is  strongly  tempered  with  tolerance  and 
with  pity.  Dickens  draws  his  pathos  from  the  spectacle 
of  ideal  innocence  exposed  to  the  evils  of  the  world;  but 
Thackeray  makes  no  less  pitiful  the  sorrows  of  men  and 
women  who  are  themselves  sinful,  weak,  and  stupid.  Becky's 
husband,  Rawdon  Crawley,  is  not  an  admirable  figure,  yet  we 
are  sorry  for  him.  George  and  Amelia  Osborne  are  both  in 
their  way  contemptible,  yet  the  scene  of  their  parting  is  full 
of  tenderness.  And  in  the  great  book  which  came  later, 
The  Newcomes,  Thackeray  has  given  a  picture  of  human 
imperfection  so  inexpressibly  real  and  touching,  that  every 
reader  believes  the  story  of  the  novelist's  coming  from  his 
work-room  one  day,  sobbing,  "I  have  killed  Colonel  New- 
come."  Thackeray  was  merciful  toward  the  feeble,  flawed 
souls  that  he  portrayed,  because  gentleness  was  a  part  of  his 


354         The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

nature.  Without  faith  in  most  of  the  pretentious  virtues  of 
the  world,  he  still  believed  in  kindness,  in  the  instinctive 
goodness  of  one  being  toward  another,  and  he  exemplified 
this  belief  in  his  books  as  in  his  life. 

Thackeray's  Use  of  History. — The  vogue  of  historical  fic- 
tion after  Scott  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  even  the  petty 
world  of  Vanity  Fair  is  disturbed  by  a  great  national  crisis ; 
but  Thackeray,  instead  of  using  Waterloo  to  impose  dig- 
nity and  splendor  upon  his  story,  characteristically  gives  us 
a  "back-stairs"  view  of  war.  We  follow  the  battle,  not  in 
the  thought  of  Napoleon  or  the  Duke,  but  chiefly  as  it  is 
reflected  in  the  fears  of  the  Wretched  Jos  Sedley,  in  the 
hopes  of  his  servant  Isidore,  and  in  the  calculations  of  Becky 
Sharp;  chiefly,  but  not  wholly,  for  there  is  poor,  almost 
abandoned  Amelia  "praying  for  George,  who  was  lying  on 
his  face,  dead,  with  a  bullet  through  his  heart."  Thackeray 
is  interested  in  famous  events  and  persons  because  of  the 
light  which  they  throw  upon  the  common  affairs  of  men. 
In  Henry  Esmond,  however,  as  in  Vanity  Fair,  Thackeray's 
own  temperament  is  to  be  reckoned  with.  His  sympathy 
with  the  preceding  century  gives  to  his  treatment  of  it  a 
warmth  and  brilliancy  which  make  the  most  realistic  of 
historical  novels  also  the  most  poetic. 

"Henry  Esmond." — In  Henry  Esmond  we  follow  the 
hero's  childhood  at  Castlewood,  in  the  mysterious  atmosphere 
of  plotting  Papists,  and  his  youth  in  the  London  of  Queen 
Anne,  where  the  persons  and  names  of  Addison,  Steele, 
Swift,  and  Fielding  meet  us  as  casually  as  those  of  modern 
celebrities  to-day.  We  see  him  take  part  in  the  wonderful 
victories  of  Marlborough,  and  in  the  daring  game  which  the 
Pretender  played  for  his  crown.  The  vanished  world  lives 
for  us  in  character  and  in  episode,  lives  with  a  dignity  and 
richness  of  conception  and  style  that  show  Thackeray  to 
have  been,  when  he  chose,  the  greatest  artist  among  the 
English  novelists.  In  his  masterpiece  he  is  writing,  not  as 
a  careless,  rather  lazy  master  of  a  puppet-show,  but  in  the 
person  of  the  chivalrous  Esmond.  Every  incident  and  de- 
scription, then,  must  reflect  his  hero's  character  in  some 
touch  of  nobility  or  of  charm.     In  Esmond's  repulsion  from 


Charlotte  Bronte  355 

Marlborough,  in  his  devotion  to  Castlewood  and  his  son,  in 
his  passion  for  Beatrix,  and  in  his  love  for  Lady  Castlewood, 
there  is  the  constant  revelation  of  an  honorable  and  loyal 
man.  When  he  is  telling  us  of  the  quarrel  between  Marl- 
borough and  Webb,  there  is  something  in  the  account  which 
reminds  us  that  it  is  a  gentleman's  story.  When  he  sur- 
renders his  birthright,  property,  and  name,  he  bears  himself 
with  a  simplicity  and  a  modesty  which  are  in  keeping  with 
a  great  renunciation.  The  style  itself,  marvellous  in  its  like- 
ness to  the  manner  of  the  eighteenth  century,  is  yet  more 
wonderful  in  its  reflection  of  Esmond's  personality.  When 
he  leaves  Castlewood,  or  stands  at  his  mother's  grave,  when 
he  bends  beside  the  body  of  his  dear  lord,  killed  by  the  vil- 
lain Mohun,  always  his  utterance  is  perfect  in  its  intimacy, 
its  simplicity,  its  distant,  haunting  rhythm.  Even  in  a  detail 
of  the  picture  of  Lady  Castlewood  vanishing  from  Esmond's 
sight  in  anger,  Thackeray's  distinction  is  evident.  "He  saw 
her  retreating,  the  taper  lighting  up  her  marble  face,  her 
scarlet  lip  quivering,  and  her  shining  golden  hair."  Had 
Thackeray  written  only  this  scene,  he  might  have  been  called 
a  master.  As  it  is  he  is  the  greatest  writer  who  has  used 
English  in  fiction. 


VI.    CHARLOTTE    BRONTE   AND   CHARLES    KINGSLEY 

Charlotte  Bronte. — The  example  of  Thackeray,  both  as  a 
realist  and  as  a  moralist,  had  a  powerful  influence  upon  a 
writer  who,  by  force  of  circumstances  and  the  impulse  of 
her  own  temperament,  was  a  romanticist.  Charlotte  Bronte 
(1816-1855)  grew  up  in  the  Yorkshire  parsonage  of  her 
father,  with  such  experience  of  the  world  as  came  from 
country  boarding-schools,  a  year  in  Brussels,  and  her  own 
family  life,  with  its  terrible  succession  of  tragedies — the 
death  of  her  mother  and  three  sisters,  the  blindness  of  her 
father,  and  the  ruin  of  her  brother  through  dissipation.  She 
and  her  sisters  wrote  at  first  for  their  own  amusement,  in- 
venting scenes  and  characters  to  supplement  the  scanty  inter- 
ests of  the  life  that  they  knew.     One  of  these  stories,  Wuth- 


356  The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

ering  Heights,  by  Emily  Bronte  (1847)  is  still  among  the  most 
strangely  powerful  of  all  novels. 

"Jane  Eyre." — Charlotte  Bronte's  masterpiece,  Jane  Eyre, 
appeared  the  next  year.  In  this  story  Miss  Bronte  under- 
took to  portray  a  real  woman  without  the  personal  attrac- 
tions of  the  ordinary  heroine.  Jane  Eyre  is  modest,  plain, 
insignificant  in  appearance.  Her  early  life  is  merely  a  repro- 
duction of  Miss  Bronte's  own  uneventful  days  at  school.  She 
soon  passes  beyond  the  world  of  the  author's  experience  into 
the  romantic  realm  of  her  imagination  and  longing,  but  though 
many  of  the  incidents  of  her  story  are  improbable,  she  remains 
a  genuine  woman.  It  was  this  honesty  of  purpose  that  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  critics,  and  under  their  friendly  advice 
Miss  Bronte  undertook  in  her  later  books,  Shirley  (1849),  an(^ 
Villette  (1853),  to  confine  herself  to  representing  the  life  and 
the  characters  that  she  knew  in  Yorkshire  and  in  Brussels. 
In  this  conscious  attempt,  however,  she  lost  something  of  the 
freshness  and  fervor  which  make  Jane  Eyre  a  book  of  win- 
ning power  and  charm. 

Her  Feeling  for  Nature. — In  one  direction  Miss  Bronte's 
experience  was  adequate,  namely,  in  her  contact  with  nature. 
From  her  books  we  know  how  largely  in  her  life  the  clouds, 
the  ragged  hills,  the  wide  spaces  of  the  Yorkshire  moors  under 
sunset  or  moonlight,  made  up  for  the  inadequacy  of  human 
society  and  interests.  She  makes  nature  enter  into  the  warp 
and  woof  of  her  stories  through  the  part  which  it  plays  in  the 
most  essential  element  in  them,  the  inner  life  of  her  heroines. 

Kingsley. — Charles  Kingsley  (1810-1875)  was  a  man  of 
many  interests,  and  only  incidentally  a  writer  of  novels.  He 
was  a  clergyman,  Professor  of  Modern  History  at  Cam- 
bridge, a  leader  in  the  "Broad  Church"  movement,  the  friend 
of  Tennyson,  and  somewhat  later  of  Carlyle,  of  whose  stren- 
uous philosophy  of  life  he  was  a  sort  of  popular  exponent. 
His  novels  fall  into  two  divisions.  In  the  earlier  ones,  Yeast 
(1848)  and  Alton  Locke  (1850),  Kingsley  gives  a  view  of  the 
problems  which  perplexed  men's  minds  in  the  middle  years 
of  the  century,  and  tries  to  point  out  a  middle  course  between 
Catholicism  and  scepticism  in  religion,  between  Toryism  and 
revolution  in  polities'.    In  the  second  division  he  works  out 


Charles  Kingsley  357 

his  purpose  through  the  historical  novel.  Hypatia  (1853)  ^s  a 
study  of  the  struggle  between  Christianity  and  Paganism,  in 
Alexandria  during  the  fourth  century,  and  its  sub-title,  "New 
Foes  With  an  Old  Face,"  indicates  its  bearing  upon  the  re- 
ligious questions  of  his  own  time.  His  masterpiece,  Westward 
Ho  (1855),  is  a  vigorous  story  of  the  times  of  Elizabeth,  de- 
picting the  contest  of  England  with  Spain  by  sea  and  in 
America.  In  these  later  novels  Kingsley  shows  many  of  the 
qualities  of  the  artist.  His  scenes  have  the  vividness  of  paint- 
ing, and  his  incident  is  at  times  superbly  dramatic.  And  in 
both,  Kingsley  is  chiefly  concerned  with  the  presentation  of 
types  of  character  and  ideals  of  life  which  made  for  national 
greatness  and  social  health  in  the  England  of  his  own  day. 

VII.    GEORGE   ELIOT    (1819-1880) 

.  George  Eliot's  Life. — A  still  more  significant  illustration 
of  the  connection  between  fiction  and  the  intellectual  and 
moral  development  of  England  is  the  work  of  George  Eliot. 
The  author  who  so  signed  herself,  Mary  Ann  Evans,  was 
born  in  Warwickshire  in  1819.  Her  father  was  of  peasant 
stock,  the  agent  for  the  estates  of  a  number  of  gentlemen 
of  the  county,  a  man  of  strong  and  worthy  character,  in- 
stinctively religious  and  conservative.  Mary  Ann  spent  her 
earliest  years  in  the  country,  except  for  some  terms  at  board- 
ing-school. When  she  was  twenty-one,  however,  her  mother 
having  died,  her  father  removed  to  Coventry.  There  she 
came  into  close  contact  with  a  group  of  people  who  were 
much  interested  in  religious  questions,  and  disposed  to  treat 
them  in  a  spirit  of  rationalism.  Under  their  influence  Miss 
Evans  gave  up  the  formal  Christianity  of  her  childhood. 
Intensely  serious  and  conscientious,  she  felt  at  first  bound 
to  mark  her  change  of  belief  by  a  refusal  to  attend  church. 
Later,  however,  she  came  to  feel  it  right  to  express  in  every 
way  her  sympathy  with  all  forms  of  moral  beauty  and  ear- 
nest living,  which  were  always  more  to  her  than  differences 
of  faith.  On  her  father's  death  in  1849,  Miss  Evans  spent 
some  time  at  Geneva,  returning  to  London  to  accept  a  posi- 
tion as  sub-editor  of  the  Westminster  Review.    This  maga- 


358  The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

zine  was  the  organ  of  free  thought,  and  her  connection  with 
it  brought  her  into  relation  with  John  Stuart  Mill,  Herbert 
Spencer,  George  Henry  Lewes,  and  other  liberals.  With  Mr. 
Lewes  she  contracted,  in  1854,  a  union  which,  on  account  of 
a  legal  impediment,  could  not  become  marriage  in  the  eyes  of 
the  law.  Her  association  with  Mr.  Lewes,  while  a  great  source 
of  happiness  and  inspiration,  constituted  a  kind  of  moral  re- 
sponsibility, which  deepened  the  serious  purpose  of  her  life. 
In  1857  she  wrote:  "If  I  live  five  years  longer  the  positive 
result  of  my  existence  on  the  side  of  truth  and  goodness  will 
far  outweigh  the  small  negative  good  that  would  have  con- 
sisted in  my  not  doing  anything  to  shock  others."  We  may 
consider  that  it  was  in  part  as  a  fulfillment  of  this  pledge  that 
her  novels  were  written. 

George  Eliot's  Novels. — The  name  George  Eliot  first  ap- 
peared in  1856,  signed  to  a  story  in  Blackwood's  Magazine, 
called  "The  Sad  Fortunes  of  the  Rev.  Amos  Barton." 
This  was  followed  by  two  other  tales  of  moderate  length, 
and  all  these  were  republished  in  1858,  as  5"  enes  of  Clerica 
Life.  The  secret  of  the  authorship  was  well  kept.  Not  until 
after  the  publication  of  Adam  Bede  in  1859  were  the  names 
of  Mr.  Lewes  and  George  Eliot  connected,  and  by  that 
time  it  was  evident  that  another  great  writer  had  appeared. 
Adam  Bede  was  followed  by  The  Mill  on  the  Floss  (i860),  and 
Silas  Marner  (1861).  In  her  next  books  George  Elliot  broad- 
ened her  scope  to  take  in  great  movements  and  causes. 
Romola  (1863)  is  a  carefully  wrought  picture  of  life  in 
Florence  in  the  days  of  Lorenzo  di  Medici;  Felix  Holt 
(1866)  is  a  study  of  social  reform  as  it  appeared  in  1832. 
Middlemarch  (1872)  is  an  elaborate  study  of  English  pro- 
vincial life,  her  longest  and  one  of  her  best  stories.  In  her 
last  novel,  Daniel  Deronda  (1876),  she  again  tried  to  asso- 
ciate her  ideas  of  individual  righteousness  with  the  claims 
of  a  great  movement,  in  this  case  the  re-establishment  of  the 
Jews  in  Palestine. 

George  Eliot  as  a  Realist. — When  George  Eliot  was  making 
her  first  ventures  in  fiction  she  records  that  Lewes,  ever  her 
most  sympathetic  critic,  applauded  her  wit,  description,  and 
philosophy,  but  doubted  her  dramatic  power.    Most  of  her 


Photograph,  Copyright,  by  Frederick  Hollyer,  London 

GEORGE  ELIOT 
From  a  drawing  by  F.  W.  Burton 


360  The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

readers  since  that  time  have  agreed  that  dramatic  power 
was  the  least  of  her  great  gifts.  It  was  most  constant  when 
she  dealt  as  a  realist  with  life  that  she  knew  thoroughly; 
it  waned  when  she  was  forced  to  rely  on  her  imagination. 
For  example,  Adam  Bede,  one  of  the  most  successful  of 
her  novels,  takes  its  starting-point  from  an  incident  in  the 
life  of  George  Eliot's  aunt,  who  once  accompanied  to  the 
scaffold  a  poor  girl  condemned  for  child-murder.  This  aunt 
was  the  original  of  Dinah  Morris,  the  woman  preacher  who 
rides  in  the  hangman's  cart  with  Hetty  Sorrel.  Hetty's 
aunt,  Mrs.  Poyser,  is  said  to  show  some  traits  of  George 
Eliot's  mother;  and  Adam  Bede  was  drawn  from  her  father. 
Indeed,  in  her  realism  she  was  in  large  measure  dependent 
on  the  material  of  her  own  early  life  in  Warwickshire  and 
Derbyshire.  Her  earlier  books  abound  in  local  studies  of 
charming  humor.  The  elder  Tullivers,  the  Gleggs  and  the 
Pullets,  and  Bob  Jakin,  in  The  Mill  on  the  Floss,  are  as 
definite  as  Scott's  or  Miss  Austen's  minor  characters.  The 
chief  sign  of  decline  in  George  Eliot's  last  novel,  Daniel 
Deronda,  is  the  attempt  to  replace  these  vigorous  living 
beings  with  creatures  of  invention.  She  had  used  up  the 
material  of  her  youth,  and  found  nothing  in  her  life  of  cult- 
ure and  travel  to  take  its  place. 

As  a  Psychologist. — Adam  Bede  is  the  most  natural  of 
George  Eliot's  books,  simple  in  problem,  direct  in  action, 
with  the  freshness  and  strength  of  the  Derbyshire  landscape 
and  character  and  speech  in  its  pages.  Its  successor,  The 
Mill  on  the  Flossy  shows  signs  of  a  growing  perplexity  on 
the  part  of  the  author,  of  a  hesitation  between  her  art  and  her 
message.  For  George  Eliot  was  more  than  an  observer; 
she  was  also  a  scientist  and  a  moralist.  She  was  not  conteni 
to  picture  human  life  as  it  appears.  She  tried  to  pierce  be- 
hind the  shows  of  things,  and  to  reveal  the  forces  by  which 
they  are  controlled.  Accordingly  she  analyzes  her  char- 
acters. In  the  case  of  the  simple  types  this  analysis  takes 
the  form  of  comment,  rapid  and  suggestive.  She  tells  us,  for 
example,  that  Mrs.  Tulliver  was  like  the  gold-fish  who  con- 
tinues to  butt  its  head  against  the  encircling  globe,  and  at 
once  the  type  of  cheerful  incapacity  to  learn  by  experience 


George  Eliot  361 

is  fixed  before  us.  In  the  case  of  the  more  conscious,  de- 
veloped characters,  her  analysis  is  more  elaborate  and  more 
sustained.  For  her  heroines  George  Eliot  drew  largely 
upon  her  own  inner  experience,  and  this  she  supplemented 
by  wide  reading,  especially  of  the  literature  of  confessions. 
In  this  way  she  gained  an  extraordinary  vividness  in  por- 
traying the  inner  life.  Her  most  significant  passages  are 
those  in  which  she  follows  the  ebb  and  flow  of  decision  in 
a  character's  mind,  dwelling  on  the  triumph  or  defeat  of  a 
personality  in  a  drama  where  there  is  but  one  actor.  Such 
a  drama  is  that  which  Maggie  Tulliver  plays  out  in  her 
heart,  torn  between  the  impulse  to  take  her  joy  as  it  offers 
itself,  and  the  unconquerable  conviction  that  she  cannot  seek 
her  own  happiness  by  sacrificing  others. 

As  a  Moralist. — Further,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  George  Eliot 
never  lets  her  case  drop  with  the  individual  analysis.  She 
always  strives  to  make  her  case  typical,  to  show  that  the 
personal  result  is  in  accordance  with  a  general  law.  Doro- 
thea's defeat  and  Lydgate's  failure  in  Middlemarch,  Tito's 
degeneration  in  Romola,  Gwendolen's  humiliation  and  re- 
covery in  Daniel  Deronda,  are  all  represented  as  occurring 
in  obedience  to  laws  of  the  ethical  world,  as  unchanging  as 
those  of  the  physical.  This  is  George  Eliot's  chief  object  as 
a  writer:  to  show  how,  in  obedience  to  law,  character  grows 
or  decays;  how  a  single  fault  or  flaw  brings  suffering  and 
death,  and  throws  a  world  into  ruin ;  how,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  is  a  making  perfect  through  suffering,  a  regeneration 
through  sin  itself,  a  hope  for  the  world  through  the  renuncia- 
tion and  self-sacrifice  of  the  individual.  "It  is  a  blind  self- 
seeking,"  she  tells  us  through  Dinah  Morris,  "which  wants 
to  be  freed  from  the  sorrow  wherewith  the  whole  creation 
groaneth  and  travaileth,"  for,  as  she  says  again,  "those  who 
live  and  suffer  may  sometimes  have  the  blessedness  of  being  a 
salvation."  It  is  this  possibility  of  blessedness  which  in  George 
Eliot's  view  is  the  compensation  for  evil;  that  we  may 

"  Be  to  other  souls 
The  cup  of  strength  in  some  great  agony " 

in  Dart  makes  up  for  the  presence  of  that  agony  in  the  world. 


862  The  Nineteenth-Century  Novel 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— State  some  differences  between  the  novel  of 
t&e  eighteenth  and  that  of  the  nineteenth  century.  To  which  division 
does  Miss  Austen  properly  belong  ?  Why  ?  Give  some  instances  of 
her  turn  for  satire.  For  what  qualities  is  "  Pride  and  Prejudice"  re- 
markable ? 

Narrate  Scott's  early  life.  How  did  his  experience  and  surroundings 
equip  him  for  his  later  work  ?  What  circumstances  led  him  to  at- 
tempt prose  fiction  ?  Relate  the  events  of  his  later  years.  What 
qualities  of  romantic  character  did  Scott  possess  ?  What  elements 
appear  in  "  Waverley  "  ?  Mention  several  of  the  Scotch  stories  which 
followed.  For  what  types  of  character  are  they  noteworthy?  Is 
there  any  element  of  "  realism  "  in  these  characters  ?  What  did  Scott 
think  of  his -descriptive  powers  ?  What  use  does  he  make  of  scenery? 
Mention  some  of  Scott's  attempts  in  English  and  European  history. 
Wherein  does  his  mastery  of  the  art  of  historical  fiction  consist  ? 
Point  out  some  effects  of  Scott's  influence.  What  forces  made  against 
the  continued  supremacy  of  the  historical  novel  ? 

Compare  the  early  life  of  Scott  with  that  of  Dickens.  Trace  the 
effect  of  Dickens's  training  in  his  later  work.  Compare  the  later  careers 
of  the  two  novelists.  What  is  "  Pickwick  Papers  "  ?  Wherein  does 
its  humor  consist  ?  On  what  types  of  character  does  Dickens  chiefly 
rely  ?  What  connection  had  his  novels  with  social  reform  ?  What 
advance  do  his  later  novels  show  in  construction  ? 

Compare  Dickens  and  Thackeray  in  their  presentation  of  real  life. 
What  was  Thackeray's  attitude  toward  "  romantic  realism  "  as  shown 
in  his  earliest  stories  ?  What  other  realists  began  with  burlesque  ? 
Mention  Thackeray's  later  works.  Describe  his  character.  How  did 
this  influence  his  books?  Why  is  his  loose  structure  an  advantage? 
On  what  ground  is  the  amount  of  the  author's  comment  in  his  books 
to  be  justified  ?  What  is  Thackeray's  view  of  the  world  implied  in  the 
title,  "Vanity  Fair"?  What  is  his  view  of  his  function  as  author? 
Contrast  his  treatment  of  good  and  evil  characters  with  that  of  Dickens. 
What  use  did  Thackeray  make  of  history  in  "  Vanity  Fair  "  ?  What  is 
the  subject-matter  of  "  Esmond  "  ?     Discuss  its  style. 

Under  what  influence  did  Charlotte  Bronte  become  a  writer  ?  Ex- 
plain the  presence  of  romantic  material  in  her  novels.  Contrast  "Jane 
Eyre"  with  her  later  books.  For  what  is  her  treatment  of  scene 
notable?  Into  what  divisions  does  Kingsley's  fiction  fall?  What 
element  appears  in  all  his  novels  ? 


Reading  Guide  363 

Describe  George  Eliot's  early  life,  and  its  effect  on  her  novels.  In 
what  respect  is  "  Adam  Bede  "  superior  to  "  Daniel  Deronda  "  ?  What 
is  George  Eliot's  purpose  as  a  moralist  ? 

READING  GUIDE.— A  few  of  the  novels  treated  in  this  chapter 
are  included  in  lists  for  college  entrance — Scott's  "Ivanhoe"  and  "Wood- 
stock," Thackeray's  "Henry  Esmond,"  and  George  Eliot's  "Silas 
Marner."  These  may  be  studied  for  plot  and  character  development, 
with  the  general  idea  of  bringing  home  to  pupils  the  qualities  of  the 
nbvel  as  a  literary  form,  and  the  difference  between  the  opportunities 
open  to  the  novelist  and  those  of  the  dramatist.  For  the  rest,  the  pupil 
should  be  encouraged  to  read  widely,  as  interest  prompts,  in  the  other 
work  of  these  authors.  It  is  unnecessary  to  suggest  any  definite  order, 
but  there  are  a  few  novels  which  no  one  should  omit.  Scott's  "Waver- 
ley,"  "Old  Mortality,"  "Heart  of  Midlothian,"  "Kenilworth,"  "Quentin 
Durward,"  and  perhaps  "Redgauntlet"  and  "The  Talisman";  Dick- 
ens's "Pickwick  Papers,"  "David  Copperfield,"  "Tale  of  Two  Cities," 
and  "Bleak  House";  Thackeray's  "Vanity Fair"  and  "The  Newcomes"; 
George  Eliot's  "Adam  Bede,"  "The  Mill  on  the  Floss,"  and  "Middle- 
march";  Charlotte  Bronte's  "Jane  Eyre,"  Reade's  "Cloister  and  the 
Hearth,"  and  Kingsley's  "  Westward  Ho,"  will  be  generally  accepted 
as  belonging  in  such  a  list. 


364 


The  Nineteenth  Century 


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CHAPTER  XVI 
A  GLANCE  IN  REVIEW 

Introduction. — We  have  now  followed  the  history  of  Eng- 
lish literature  from  the  prehistoric  twilight  of  the  race  to 
our  own  day,  a  period  of  nearly  fifteen  hundred  years.  Let 
us  take  a  hasty  glance  backward,  and  try  to  see  the  story  of 
English  letters  in  its  broad  features,  as  it  unfolds  itself  with 
the  centuries. 

The  Making  of  the  Race  and  of  the  Language. — The  Eng- 
lish are  a  mixed  race,  and  English  literature  owes  its  re- 
markable scope  to  the  fact  that  many  different  peoples  and 
different  branches  of  peoples  have  been  mingled  together 
to  form  the  national  character  to  which  literature  gives  ex- 
pression. The  history  of  English  literature  is,  during  its 
early  period,  largely  the  history  of  the  mingling  together  of 
these  different  peoples  and  tongues,  to  form  a  single  nation 
and  language,  in  which  many  diverse  elements  are  held  in 
solution.  This  period  of  preparation  begins,  perhaps  as 
early  as  the  fourth  century,  with  the  songs  chanted  by  pagan 
Saxons  in  their  early  home  upon  the  German  Sea,  and  ends 
with  Chaucer,  the  first  great  writer  in  whom  we  feel  the 
modern  spirit,  and  whose  language  is  near  enough  to  our 
own  to  be  read  by  modern  men  with  only  a  small  amount 
of  preparatory  training.  If  we  neglect  the  earliest  scraps 
of  song  which  scholars  have  ventured  to  assign  to  a  remoter 
antiquity,  and  date  the  true  beginning  of  Anglo-Saxon 
poetry  from  the  middle  or  end  of  the  sixth  century,  when 
the  great  epic  of  Beowulf  probably  arose,  we  still  have  a 
period  of  nearly  eight  centuries  during  which  the  nation  and 
the  language  were  being  formed. 

The  earliest  historic  inhabitants  of  Britain  were  of  the  Cel- 
tic race ;  but  the  basis  of  the  English  race  and  language  was 
rurnished,  not  by  the  Celts,  but  by  the  Anglo-Saxons,  who 

369 


370  A  Glance  in  Review 

invaded  and  possessed  Britain  during  the  fifth  and  sixth  cen- 
turies. They  mingled,  to  some  degree,  with  the  conquered 
Celts,  and  absorbed  a  small  portion  of  the  Celtic  tongue,  to- 
gether with  some  words  left  behind  by  the  Roman  occupation. 
Toward  the  end  of  the  eighth  century,  and  during  the  ninth, 
England  was  overrun  by  the  Danes  and  the  Northmen,  men 
of  allied  race  to  the  Anglo-Saxons,  but  sufficiently  different 
to  contribute  some  new  ingredients  to  the  national  character. 
In  1066,  the  country  was  conquered  by  the  Norman-French, 
who  had  originally  been  Teutonic,  like  the  Anglo-Saxons 
and  Danes,  but  who  had  become  by  intermarriage  half 
French  in  blood,  and  were  wholly  so  in  civilization.  Thus  a 
second  and  far  greater  infusion  of  Celtic  characteristics  was 
made  in  the  already  blended  English  character.  For  a 
period  of  three  hundred  years  the  process  of  amalgamating 
the  natives  and  the  conquerors  went  on ;  by  the  time  of  Chau- 
cer it  was  virtually  completed. 

Old  and  Middle  English  Literature. — The  literature  of 
these  eight  centuries  divides  itself  into  two  parts;  first,  that 
produced  before  the  Norman  Conquest,  and  written  in 
Anglo-Saxon,  or  Old  English;  second,  that  which  began  to 
be  produced  at  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century,  in 
Middle  English,  a  tongue  recognizably  like  our  own,  and  be- 
coming gradually  more  so  as  it  absorbed  French  ingredients. 
Old  English  literature,  in  turn,  divides  itself  into  two  parts ; 
first,  the  early  pagan  poetry  of  which  Beowulf  is  the  chief 
monument;  second,  the  Christianized  literature  of  North- 
umbria  and  Wessex,  of  which  Caedmon,  Cynewulf,  and  King 
Alfred  are  the  chief  figures.  Middle  English  literature,  like- 
wise, includes  two  periods ;  first,  the  pre-Chaucerian  period, 
during  which  the  metrical  romance  was  the  great  staple  of 
production ;  second,  the  period  of  Chaucer  and  his  followers. 
During  this  latter  period  literature  was  greatly  widened,  both 
in  form  and  matter.  The  verse  tale  was  the  most  vital  form 
which  it  took;  but  the  lyric  (especially  the  elaborate  French 
lyric)  was  cultivated,  the  popular  ballad  flourished,  and  the 
miracle  play  took  its  rise. 

The  Renaissance  and  the  Reformation. — During  the  fif- 
teenth century,  the  wave  of  creative  impulse  which  had  risen 


A  Glance  in  Review  371 

so  high  in  Chaucer,  ebbed  away,  chiefly  because  of  the  dis- 
turbed state  of  the  country.  But  in  the  sixteenth  century 
the  life  of  England  began  again  to  be  stitred  by  two  great 
impulses.  One  of  these  was  a  literary  and  artistic  influence, 
which  came  from  Italy,  and  which  we  call  the  Renaissance. 
The  other  was  a  moral  and  religious  influence,  which  came 
from  Germany,  and  which  we  know  as  the  Reformation. 
Under  this  double  stimulus,  aided  later  by  the  excitement 
of  great  geographical  discoveries,  the  growth  of  commerce, 
and  the  national  enthusiasm  aroused  by  England's  struggle 
with  Spain,  literature  was  again  quickened.  During  the  first 
quarter  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  wave  of  creative  litera- 
ture began  to  rise ;  and  it  continued  to  rise  more  and  more 
rapidly  until  it  reached  its  climax  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth  and  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  It  then 
ebbed  rapidly  away ;  but  the  great  Puritan  writers,  Milton 
and  Bunyan,  continued  on  into  a  later  age  the  double  im- 
pulse of  the  Renaissance  and  of  the  Reformation. 

Three  Stages  of  the  Renaissance  Period. — We  may  prof- 
itably consider  this  period  as  divided  into  three  stages.  The 
first  stage  is  represented  by  Sir  Thomas  More,  by  the  trans- 
lators of  the  second  great  English  version  of  the  Bible,*  Tyn- 
dale  and  Coverdale,  and  by  the  courtly  figures  of  Wyatt  and 
Surrey,  who  brought  the  Renaissance  influence  into  English 
poetry.  This  first  stage  of  the  new  era  also  saw  the  rise  of 
early  Erfglish  comedy  and  tragedy,  developed  out  of  the 
miracle  plays  and  moralities,  and  given  definite  form  by  the 
influence  of  the  Latin  drama. 

The  second  stage  represents  the  high  tide  of  Elizabethan 
literature.  Its  greatest  figures  are  Sidney,  Spenser,  Mar- 
lowe, Shakespeare,  Ben  Jonson,  and  Bacon;  and  grouped 
around  them  we  find  a  great  crowd  of  poets,  romancers,  and 
playwrights.  A  wonderful  efflorescence  of  the  human  mind, 
a  wonderful  energy  and  gayety  in  human  life,  mark  the  last 
years  of  Elizabeth  and  the  first  years  of  James  I. 

The  third  stage  is  marked  by  the  over-ripeness  and  de- 
cline of  the  drama,  and  the  growing  sternness  of  the  Puri- 

*The  first  was  Wyclif,  whose  age  was  marked  by  a  movement  somewhat 
similar  to  that  of  the  Reformation. 


372  A  Glance  in  Review 

tan  temper.  To  this  stage  belong  Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 
Webster,  and  the  later  dramatists ;  it  saw  the  rise  of  a  great 
pulpit  literature  and  a  fervid  religious  poetry;  the  earlier 
work  of  Milton,  in  which  he  shows  himself  half- Elizabethan 
and  half-Puritan,  falls  in  it.  It  ends  amid  the  confusion  of 
the  great  Civil  War,  and  the  military  despotism  of  Cromwell. 
By  this  time  the  great  wave  of  imaginative  energy  which  had 
begun  to  rise  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  was  exhausted; 
and  with  the  restoration  of  Charles  II.  to  the  English  throne 
a  new  epoch  opened,  an  epoch  of  reaction  and  criticism. 
But  as  we  have  said  before,  there  are  two  great  survivals  of 
the  spirit  of  the  Renaissance  and  the  Reformation  into  the 
age  of  the  Restoration;  for  it  was  under  Charles  II.  that 
Paradise  Lost  and  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  were  written. 

The  Era  of  Classicism. — The  epoch  of  English  literary  his- 
tory which  opened  with  the  return  of  Charles  II.  was  pre- 
eminently an  epoch  of  prose,  as  the  previous  one  had  been 
pre-eminently  an  epoch  of  poetry.  It  is  called  the  era  of 
classicism,  because  it  believed  that  it  had  found  in  the 
older  classic  literatures  the  kind  of  moderation  and  polish 
which  formed  its  own  literary  ideal.  As  the  previous  age 
had  drawn  its  inspiration  from  Italy,  the  age  which  we  have 
now  reached  found  its  example  in  France,  where  the  clas- 
sical fashion  in  literature,  long  since  firmly  established  there, 
exerted  its  influence  first  upon  the  men  of  letters  who  were 
exiled  with  Charles  II.,  and  afterward  upon  the  English 
nation  as  a  whole. 

Three  Stages  of  the  Classical  Era. — The  domination  of 
this  "classical"  ideal  in  English  letters  divides  itself  into 
three  parts.  The  first  is  the  age  of  Dryden,  dating  from 
the  Restoration  to  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century.  It 
saw  the  heroic  couplet  take  the  place  of  all  other  forms  of 
verse  (with  trifling  exceptions);  it  saw  a  flippant  society 
comedy  in  prose,  and  a  bombastic  rhymed  tragedy,  take  the 
place  of  the  Elizabethan  blank  verse  drama;  it  saw  the  de- 
velopment of  a  systematic  literary  criticism,  and  the  develop- 
ment of  a  useful  prose  style. 

The  second  epoch  of  the  classical  era  is  signalized  by  the 
final  perfecting  of  the  heroic  couplet,  and  of  the  "rational"  type 


A  Glance  in  Review  373 

of  poetry,  in  the  masterly  hands  of  Pope ;  it  also  witnessed 
the  development  of  a  magnificent  prose  satire  at  the  hands 
of  Swift,  and  the  creation  of  a  new  type  of  literature  in  the 
essays  of  Addison  and  Steele,  which  deal  directly  with  the 
social  life  of  the  time,  in  a  light  and  graceful  way.  Finally, 
it  saw  in  the  work  of  Defoe,  the  beginnings  of  the  modern 
novel,  the  greatest  literary  discovery  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  third  stage  of  the  reign  of  "classicism"  is  represented 
by  Johnson,  Goldsmith,  and  Burke.  In  Johnson  culminated 
eighteenth-century  scholarship.  In  Goldsmith  and  Burke, 
along  with  a  pronounced  classical  bias,  we  discover  the  work- 
ings of  a  more  ardent,  sympathetic,  and  ideal  temper;  in 
other  words,  we  note  in  them  the  signs  of  a  new  feeling 
toward  life  and  art,  a  feeling  destined  soon  to  grow  strong 
enough  to  overthrow  the  classical  standards  and  usher  in  a 
freer  and  more  impassioned  literature.  This  age  of  Burke 
and  Goldsmith  is  also  the  age  of  the  great  eighteenth-century 
novelists  who  followed  Defoe — Richardson,  Fielding,  Smol- 
lett, and  Sterne.  The  work  of  the  novelists,  though  thor- 
oughly realistic,  tended,  by  its  intimate  truth  to  life  and  its 
keen  human  sympathy,  to  contribute  toward  the  triumph  of 
the  new  spirit. 

The  Romantic  Movement. — Finally,  this  latter  half  of  the 
eighteenth  century  witnessed  the  beginnings  and  progress 
of  a  movement  to  regain  for  poetry  the  romantic  freedom 
and  wayward  beauty  of  which  the  classical  school  had  de- 
prived it.  This  movement,  known  as  the  Romantic  Move- 
ment, began  with  Thomson,  was  continued  by  Gray,  Cowper, 
and  Blake,  and  came  to  a  more  or  less  complete  realization 
in  Burns.  Burns  died  four  years  before  the  end  of  the  cen- 
tury ;  and  two  years  after  his  death  the  publication  of  Lyrical 
Ballads,  by  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth,  marked  the  decisive 
triumph  of  the  new  romantic  pqetry. 

The  Nineteenth  Century:  First  Period. — The  nineteenth 
century  divides  itself  naturally  into  two  parts,  the  first  ex- 
tending, roughly,  to  the  accession  of  Queen  Victoria  in  1837 ; 
the  second  covering  her  long  reign,  1837-1901.  Throughout 
both  the  romantic  tone  prevails,  but  it  is  more  conspicuous 
in  the  earlier  period,  which,  like  the  romantic  age  of  Eliza- 


374  A  Glance  in  Review 

beth,  is  pre-eminently  an  epoch  of  poetry.  During  this 
epoch  English  literature  felt  strongly  the  influence  of  the 
French  Revolution,  which  was  itself  the  outcome  of  a  vast 
"romantic  movement"  of  a  social  and  political  kind.  This 
influence  is  especially  marked  in  Wordsworth,  who  first 
embraced  and  later  repudiated  the  principles  of  the  revo- 
lution. Revolutionary  doctrine  is  deeply  ingrained  in  the 
poetry  of  Byron  and  of  Shelley.  It  is,  however,  conspicu- 
ously absent  from  the  work  of  Keats,  who  stands  apart  as 
the  poet  of  pure  beauty  in  an  age  disturbed  by  social  and 
political  trouble.  Wordsworth  marks  the  entrance  into 
poetry  of  a  new  sympathy  with  external  nature,  and  a  new 
understanding  of  the  spiritual  meaning  of  the  universe  in 
its  relation  to  man.  In  Coleridge  we  meet  a  new  power  of 
making  credible  and  real  the  world  of  dreams  and  of  super- 
natural happenings.  Byron  stands  chiefly  for  the  revolt 
against  social  convention  and  hypocrisy;  Shelley  for  the 
search  after  a  more  ideal  existence,  in  which  truth,  justice, 
and  beauty  shall  prevail.  Scott,  both  in  his  poetry  and  in 
his  prose  romances,  represents  a  new  interest  in  the  storied 
past.  In  the  prose  essays  of  Lamb  and  De  Quincey.we  see 
the  romantic  spirit  applied  to  the  criticism  of  literature,  to 
the  description  of  various  phases  of  social  and  personal  life. 

The  Nineteenth  Century:  Second  Period. — The  literature 
of  the  Victorian  age  is  especially  marked  by  its  interest  in 
social  problems,  and  in  the  problem  of  man's  personal  ex- 
istence, the  first  being  due  to  the  spread  of  democracy  and 
its  resultant  disturbances,  the  second  to  far-reaching  dis- 
coveries in  the  realm  of  biology  and  psychology,  which  have 
given  man  a  new  conception  of  his  place  in  the  scheme 
of  creation,  and  a  new  understanding  of  his  own  nature. 
The  social  interest  is  conspicuous  in  the  work  of  Macaulay, 
Carlyle,  Tennyson,  Arnold,  and  Ruskin.  The  psychological 
interest  also  deeply  colors  the  work  of  Carlyle  and  Tennyson ; 
and  in  the  work  of  Browning  it  is  predominant.  The  novel, 
which  is  the  most  popular  and  widely  cultivated  form  of 
literature  in  this  age,  reflects  both  these  interests.  In 
Dickens  the  desire  to  reform  abuses  and  champion  the  op- 
pressed, holds  the  chief  place;   Thackeray's  interest  is  also 


A  Glance  in  Review  375 

chiefly  a  social  one,  but  he  cares  to  study  and  portray 
society  rather  than  to  reform  it;  in  George  Eliot  as  in 
Browning,  the  interest  is  mainly  psychological  and  moral, 
dealing  with  the  intimate  personal  life  of  men  and  women  as 
it  is  affected  by  the  life  about  them. 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE 

CHAPTER   I 

AMERICAN   LITERATURE  BEFORE   1800 

I.   INTRODUCTORY    STATEMENT 

The  Lack  of  Primitive  Beginnings. — As  an  expression  of 
national  life,  American  literature  is  different  from  any  other 
in  its  lack  of  primitive  beginnings.  It  does  not,  like  the 
early  English,  progress  as  civilization  progresses,  gradually 
passing  from  the  ruggedness  of  orally  transmitted  song  to 
the  intricacies  of  Elizabethan  verse,  the  polished  felicities  of 
the  early  eighteenth  century,  and  the  studious  and  deliberate 
variety  of  the  Victorian  era.  Nor  does  it  take  all  the  suc- 
cessive steps  which  lead  up  to,  through,  and  out  of  feudalism. 
The  effect  of  chivalry  is  not  to  be  traced  in  its  mediaeval 
life,  for  it  had  no  mediaeval  life.  As  a  consequence,  there- 
fore, American  literature  does  not  in  its  beginnings  directly 
feel  the  world-awakening  influences  of  the  Renaissance  and 
the  Reformation.  These  influences  are,  of  course,  traceable 
in  American  life,  but  it  is  only  because  their  effects  were 
brought  over  ready-made  into  America,  just  as  certainly  as 
clothes  and  tools  and  furniture  and  books.  In  the  Colonial 
period  one  can  study  the  process  of  transplanting  a  hardy 
flower  from  a  sunny  and  protected  place  around  the  corner 
into  the  shade  and  the  wind.  Its  roots  are  disturbed,  but 
not  at  first  wholly  torn  away  from  the  original  soil.  Will  the 
plant  survive,  blossom,  and  come  to  fruitage  under  the 'new 
conditions?  Is  it  its  previous  self  or  something  new?  Or 
is  it  both,  as  the  old  stem  drinks  in  new  sap? 

American  Literature  Defined. — It  has  been  the  practice  of 
a  number  of  historians  of  American  letters  to  declare  that 
nothing  worthy  of  the  name  of  literature  was  produced  in  the 
country  before  1800.     In  order  to  differ  intelligently  with 

377 


378         American  Literature  Before  1800 

critics  of  this  type  it  is  well  to  start  with  a  definition.  What 
is  meant  by  literature,  and  what  by  American  literature? 
The  first  requisite  of  literature  is  that  it  have  some  vital  in- 
terest. If  we  can  feel  that  an  essay,  a  play,  a  song,  or  a 
story  was  the  product  of  some  living,  energetic  individual 
vitally  interested  in  what  he  was  doing,  we  can  hardly  main- 
tain that  we  have  not  been  reading  literature.  Yet  it  is 
necessary  to  go  farther  than  this.  It  is  not  enough  that  a 
man  show  such  enthusiasm  or  energy  that  "  he  tears  a  passion 
to  tatters  ";  for  with  this  element  of  vitality  in  any  work  of 
literature  must  also  be  combined  a  certain  formal  quality. 
The  definition  must  be  carried  a  step  farther,  moreover,  to  the 
other  term,  "American."  What  is  it  for  literature  to  be 
national?  Any  national  literature  should  be  so  distinct  in 
its  character  that  we  could  not  conceive  of  its  having  been 
produced  in  any  other  country  than  that  in  which  it  was 
given  birth.  In  this  connection  it  appears  that  two  main 
qualities  are  to  be  sought.  First,  literature  may  establish  its 
claim  to  nationality  by  portraying  or  criticising  the  life  in 
the  midst  of  which  it  was  written.  The  whole  course  of 
English  letters  is  marked  by  works  of  this  sort.  The  value 
of  the  Prologue  to  Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales,  with  its  fine 
series  of  portraits  of  the  Knight  and  the  Squire,  of  the  Nun, 
the  Priest,  of  the  Merchant  and  the  Shipman,  the  Clerk  and 
the  Wife  of  Bath,  is  that  they  make  a  composite  study  of 
English  life  in  the  fourteenth  century,  which  is  as  useful  to 
the  historian  as  it  is  charming  to  the  lover  of  literature.  The 
comedies  of  Ben  Jonson  two  centuries  later,  again  help  to 
expound  the  life  of  the  subjects  of  Elizabeth.  One  hundred 
years  after  this,  the  satires  of  Joseph  Addison  on  the  subjects 
of  Queen  Anne  are  inevitably  English.  Then  there  follow 
a  whole  series  of  story-tellers  from  Richardson  and  Fielding 
to  Dickens  and  Thackeray  and  on  down  to  writers  of  the 
present  day  who  have  been  respectively  English  and  Ameri- 
can because  they  have  portrayed  society  in  its  different  as- 
pects, and  perhaps  passed  criticisms  upon  it. 

Yet  to  stop  here  with  the  definition  of  nationalism  would 
be  to  omit  some  of  the  very  greatest  literature.  Turn  to 
Chaucer  again.    Thus  far  only  the  Prologue  and  connecting 


Colonial  Literature  from  1600  to  1700    379 

links  to  the  Canterbury  Tales  have  been  cited.  What  are 
the  stories  themselves  ?  They  have,  in  the  majority  of  cases, 
little  to  do  with  the  England  of  Chaucer's  day.  They  are 
based  on  originals  in  Greek,.  Latin,  Italian,  and  French. 
Yet  they  are  distinctly  English  in  reflecting  the  taste  of  the 
England  of  Chaucer's  day,  an  England  which  was  so  full  of 
stories  of  romantic  adventure  that  the  love  of  them  was  one 
of  the  characteristics  of  the  age.  These  points  should  be 
kept  in  mind  in  a  survey  of  the  literature  of  America  between 
1600  and  1800.  Do  we  find  anything  written  in  this  long 
period  which  is  full  of  life  and  therefore  is  literature?  Do 
we  discover  anything  which  possesses  artistic  form  and 
thus  lays  claim  to  the  title?  Can  we  admit  that  any  of  the 
material  portrays  and  criticises  American  life  in  its  earliest 
stages  ?    Does  any  reflect  the  taste  of  the  times  ? 

II.  COLONIAL  LITERATURE   FROM   l6oO  TO    I70O 

Seventeenth-Century  Life  in  America. — The  significance 
of  the  century  marks  in  the  Colonial  period  has  been  well  in- 
dicated. In  1600  none  of  the  settlements  which  developed 
into  the  original  thirteen  colonies  had  been  established.  In 
1700  all  but  one  of  the  colonies,  Georgia,  were  flourishing. 
By  1800  the  Revolution  had  taken  place,  and  they  had  be- 
come an  independent  nation. 

A  glance  over  the  period  between  1600  and  1700  shows 
that  whatever  literature  there  was  at  the  outset  had  to  be  of 
a  very  elementary  type.  For,  though  it  was  the  record  of  a 
highly  educated  group  of  men,  these  men  had  left  one  of  the 
great  centres  of  seventeenth-century  life  and  settled  under 
primitive  conditions  from  which  they  were  trying  to  free 
themselves  as  soon  as  possible.  Their  lives  were  given  over 
to  the  work  of  ploughing,  building,  fishing,  and  hunting,  and 
of  carrying  on  an  active  commerce  with  the  Old  World. 
There  was,  of  course,  plenty  of  material  for  romance  in  this 
experience.  They  encountered  resistance  on  every  side.  In 
the  north  they  forced  the  reluctant  soil  to  yield  them  the 
bare  necessities  of  life.  Their  suffering  brought  them  in- 
timately together,  and  their  nobler  emotions  and  baser  pas- 


380         American  Literature  Before  1800 

sions  offered  much  material  for  literary  treatment.  In  fact, 
they  had  everything  necessary  except  leisure.  But  engrossed 
as  they  were  in  the  material  problems  of  getting  for  them- 
selves food  and  fuel,  shelter  and  clothing,  what  they  did 
write,  although  sometimes  not  of  the  briefest,  was  of  the 
simplest  nature. 

Early  Motives  for  Authorship. — Their  motives  for  author- 
ship during  the  early  days  were  few.  They  wrote  to  keep  in 
personal  contact  with  England,  tq  inform  their  families  and 
their  friends,  to  keep  in  touch  with  their  financial  backers 
and  with  the  state  authorities.  Aside  from  this  personal 
sort  of  production  they  wrote  to  remove  prevailing  miscon- 
ceptions about  America,  and  in  so  doing  to  stimulate  coloni- 
zation. At  rare  intervals,  even  in  these  early  days,  a  third 
motive  appeared  in  the  case  of  a  few  colonists  who  wrote  for 
their  own  edification  and  pleasure.  Yet  during  most  of  this 
century  it  is  significant  that  little  printing  was  done  in 
America,  and  that  comparatively  few  utterances  were  ad- 
dressed through  the  press  to  American  readers.  In  the 
main,  English-born  men  were  supplying  to  London  printers 
material  for  the  English  public. 

First  Writings  in  the  South. — Captain  John  Smith,  the 
most  picturesque  of  the  early  settlers,  has  appropriately  the 
honor  of  being  first  writer,  by  virtue  of  his  True  Relation  of 
Virginia,  published  in  London,  1608.  It  is  a  spirited  work, 
heavy  in  spots  where  he  piles  up  rather  dry  accumulations  of 
facts  about  plants  and  animals,  but  full  of  lively  interest  when 
he  comes  to  his  own  experiences  with  the  colonists  and  the 
Indians,  and  freshened  by  "  tall  "  stories  which,  through  his 
genial  disregard  for  the  facts,  cast  a  good  deal  of  light  upon 
his  own  character.  The  same  jaunty  animation  appears  in 
the  so-called  Burwell  Papers,  an  incomplete  account  of 
Bacon's  Rebellion  in  1676;  and  both  of  these  works,  which 
may  be  taken  as  the  most  interesting  early  products  from 
the  South,  show  the  same  evident  attention  to  the  rather  in- 
tricate prose  style  of  the  later  Elizabethans. 

Religious  Feeling  in  the  North. — In  the  North,  for  evident 
reasons,  the  output  was  much  greater.  In  1620,  and  again 
in  1630,  companies  of  Englishmen  in  Plymouth  and  in  Bos- 


Colonial  Literature  from  1600  to  1700   381 

ton  had  settled  communities  wfyere  they  meant  to  worship  as 
they  chose.  Almost  at  once,  however,  it  became  evident  at 
both  places  that  they  had  no  more  intention  of  allowing 
general  liberty  of  worship  than  had  William  Laud  and 
Charles  I.  of  granting  universal  toleration  in  England.  As  a 
result,  although  the  direct  historical  chronicles  of  such  men 
as  William  Bradford,  Nathaniel  Morton,  and  John  Win- 
throp  may  not  be  overlooked,  we  naturally  turn  with  more 
interest  to  the  writings  which  show  the  struggles  of  the  ortho- 
dox old  guard  against  the  encroachments  of  the  ungodly. 

The  Decline  of  Intolerance. — The  best  fighter  against  the 
sin  of  toleration  was  Nathaniel  Ward,  whose  Simple  Cobbler 
of  Agawam  (1646)  was  a  bitter  protest  against  the  very  kind 
of  non-conformity  of  which  he  had  previously  been  guilty  in 
England.  His  protest  came  none  too  soon,  however,  for  al- 
ready Thomas  Morton,  a  somewhat  irresponsible  adven- 
turer, had,  in  The  New  English  Canaan,  written  some  gall- 
ing satire  on  certain  discrepancies  between  Puritan  faith  and 
Puritan  practice.  Sober  and  religious  men  entered  the 
arena.  Roger  Williams  suffered  banishment  rather  than 
submit  to  the  tyranny  of  the  churchman,  and  Franklin's 
grandfather,  Peter  Folger,  in  his  Looking  Glass  for  the  Times, 
explained  that  God  was  punishing  New  England  for  "  the 
persecuting  trade  "  by  inspiring  the  Indians  to  the  horrors  of- 
King  Philip's  War.  Finally,  with  the  last  decade  of  the  cen- 
tury, the  Salem  witchcraft  tragedies  were  followed  by  an  al- 
most immediate  change  in  public  feeling  toward  religious 
fanaticism.  Of  the  lack  of  true  scientific  knowledge  among 
the  New  Englanders,  and  of  their  consequent  openness  to 
superstition,  we  find  enough  evidence  in  the  Remarkable 
Providences  of  Increase  Mather,  a  book  of  prodigious  anec- 
dotes about  "  things  preternatural,"  "  demons  and  possessed 
persons,"  "  apparitions,"  and  various  remarkable  deliver- 
ances, destructions,  and  judgments.  A  work  of  this  author's 
great  son,  Cotton  Mather,  The  Wonders  of  the  Invisible 
World,  is  similar  in  content.  Both  made  attempts  at  scien- 
tific handling  of  their  subject,  but  both  seem  to  have  fanned 
the  sparks  which  burst  into  flame  with  the  Salem  inquisition, 
causing  the  death  within  three  months  of  nineteen  alleged 


382         American  Literature  Before  1800 

witches.  A  closing  chapter,  in  this  controversy  was  Robert 
Calef  s  More  Wonders  of  the  Invisible  World,  a  biting  reply- 
to  the  unscientific  credulity  of  all  those  who  had  been  led  so 
far  from  the  truth. 

A  Period  of  Change. — With  the  close  of  the  century  it  is 
thus  very  evident  that  a  genuine  period  of  change  had  ar- 
rived. The  old  domination  of  the  church  fathers  had  begun 
to  wane;  they  no  longer  controlled  both  church  and  state 
without  challenge;  their  point  of  view  was  no  longer  ac- 
cepted without  question  by  all  respectable  persons.  They 
had  actually  been  tried  and  found  guilty  of  grievous  error. 
Three  New  Englanders  all  living  and  writing  at  the  end  of 
the  century  represent  the  conservative,  liberal,  and  radical 
attitudes. 

Cotton  Mather's  "  Magnalia." — Cotton  Mather,  already 
mentioned,  to  the  end  keeps  his  eye  upon  the  past.  Appro- 
priately, his  greatest  work  in  bulk  and  significance  is  Mag- 
nalia Christi  Americana,  or  The  Ecclesiastical  History  of 
New  England.  The  motive  of  the  immense  tome  is  made 
clear  by  the  concluding  words  of  the  introduction:  "Grant 
me  thy  gracious  assistance,  Oh  my  God,  that  ...  I  may 
find  my  labors  acceptable  and  profitable  unto  thy  churches, 
and  serviceable  unto  the  interests  of  thy  gospel."  He 
deals  in  some  detail  with  the  famous  individuals  and  institu- 
tions of  early  New  England,  and  concludes  with  "  A  Faith- 
ful Record  of  Many  Illustrious  Wonderful  Providences " 
and  "  The  Wars  of  the  Lord,  being  the  Afflictions  and  Dis- 
turbances of  the  Church  in  New  England."  The  whole 
work  is  ecclesiastical,  and  based  on  the  general  assumption 
that  the  salvation  of  New  England  rested  upon  her  upholding 
the  traditions  of  the  past. 

Samuel  Sewall  and  His  Diary. — A  more  liberal  attitude  is 
that  of  Samuel  Sewall.  He  was  an  almost  exact  contempo- 
rary of  Cotton  Mather,  and  almost  equally  prominent  in  the 
same  town.  After  graduation  from  Harvard,  he  passed  into 
law  by  way  of  the  church,  being  a  preacher  before  he  became 
a  barrister.  Magistrate  in  1692,  and  hence  a  representative 
of  temporal  authority;  deacon,  and  therefore  deputy  of  the 
Most  High,  he  served  in  this  double  capacity  as  one  of  the 


Colonial  Literature  from  1600  to  1700    383 

witchcraft  judges.  But  five  years  later,  conscience-stricken 
at  his  part  in  the  spilling  of  innocent  blood,  he  arose  in  church 
and  made  public  acknowledgment  of  his  sin  and  his  con- 
trition. Three  years  after,  in  his  tract  on  The  Selling  of 
Joseph,  he  wrote  the  first  real  arraignment  of  the  practice  of 
slave-holding  in  America.  His  greatest  work  was  his  diary, 
a  running  comment  on  his  life  in  Boston  from  1674  to  1729. 
He  appears  in  it  as  a  fine  example  of  the  sturdy  Puritan 
whose  chief  characteristic  was  a  grave  severity.  He  was  op- 
posed almost  as  staunchly  as  Nathaniel  Ward  to  the  en- 
croachments of  frivolity,  "  tricks,"  frolics,  dancing,  and  the 
pagan  celebrations  of  such  festivals  as  Christmas,  Easter,  and 
May-day;  but  there  is  nevertheless  a  certain  humane  broad- 
ness of  view  in  his  comments  on  life  which  contrasts  him 
with  the  "  Mather  dynasty."  He  is  a  touch  more  worldly 
and  much  less  pompous,  doing  in  the  long  diary  the  same 
service  for  his  community  that  his  two  English  contempo- 
raries, Pepys  and  Evelyn,  did  for  the  courts  of  Charles  II. 
and  James  II. 

Mrs.  Knight's  Journal. — Quite  different  and  far  less  aus- 
tere than  either  of  these  dignitaries  was  Mrs.  Sarah  Kemble 
Knight,  when,  in  1 704,  she  wrote  her  now  famous  Journal  of 
a  Journey  from  Boston  to  New .  York.  Whether  she  would 
have  written  just  as  she  did  if  she  had  known  that  her  work 
was  ever  to  be  published,  is  an  open  question.'  As  it  stands, 
it  is  by  all  odds  the  most  uniformly  genial  bit  of  writing  that 
survives  from  her  generation.  Here  and  there  in  earlier  pro- 
ductions appear  situations  and  phrases  which  amuse  the 
reader.  These,  however,  were  not  always  so  intended,  and 
they  were  at  best  mainly  brief,  interpolated  quips.  Mrs. 
Knight,  in  contrast,  was  irrepressibly  jolly.  Sometimes  she 
lapses  into  vulgarity;  frequently  she  is  worldly  wise;  scattered 
along  through  the  little  book  are  refreshing  signs  of  a  very 
mild  irreligiousness,  especially  in  her  use  of  biblical  allusion; 
and  in  the  fashion  of  many  of  the  Puritans  of  her  day,  though 
not  with  Puritan  gravity,  she  drops  from  time  to  time  into 
verse.  Withal,  however,  she  was  a  devout,  decent,  orderly 
person. 

Seventeenth-Century  Verse. — Some   reference  is  due  the 


384         American  Literature  Before  1800 

Colonial  verse  before  complete  leave  is  taken  of  the  seven- 
teenth  century.  Much  of  the  earliest  verse  was  used  merely 
for  the  sake  of  variety  in  the  handling  of  commonplace 
themes.  Thus  R.  Rich,  writing  his  Newes  from  Virginia  in 
1610,  offers  a  half  apology  when  he  says:  "  If  thou  ask  me 
why  I  put  it  in  verse,  I  prithee  knowe  it  was  only  to  feede 
mine  owne  humour."  In  New  England  this  inclination  to 
lapse  into  rhyme  showed  itself  among  explorers,  historians, 
and  preachers  alike.  Thus,  when  Governor  William  Brad- 
ford, of  Plymouth,  courted  the  muse,  he  wrote  a  set  of  verses 
on  Providence  and  the  Pilgrim,  the  stiffness  of  which  can  be 
gathered  from  the  opening  couplet: 

"From  my  years  young  in  days  of  youth, 
God  did  make  known  to  me  His  truth." 

With  equally  awkward  sobriety,  William  Morrell,  resident  in 
Plymouth  1623-1624,  wrote  in  heroic  couplets  A  Recommen- 
dation 0}  New  England,  his  title  well  indicating  the  prosy 
content  of  the  work.  Thus,  again,  Morton  interspersed  into 
his  New  English  Canaan  rhymes  which  were  irritatingly 
superior  to  those  of  his  Puritan  adversaries.  Bradford  had 
a  literary  as  well  as  an  ethical  grievance  to  inspire  him  when 
he  recorded  that  "  Morton  likewise  (to  show  his  poetry)  com- 
posed sundry  rhymes  and  verses,  some  tending  to  lascivious- 
ness,  and  others  to  the  detraction  and  scandal  of  some  per- 
sons, which  he  affixed  to  this  idle  or  idol  Maypole." 

Two  Literary  Curiosities. — The  most  curious  effusion  in 
seventeenth-century  American  verse  has  also  the  distinction 
of  being  the  first  volume  actually  published  in  this  country — 
The  Bay  Psalm  Book,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  1640.  The 
original  title  was  The  Whole  Book  of  Psalms  faithfully  done 
into  English  Metre,  the  task  being  a  work  of  collaboration  by 
many.  It  is  a  pathetic  fact  that  the  book  has  long  been 
considered  a  mere  curio,  that  the  basis  of  choosing  excerpts 
has  been  to  select  examples  of  the  most  ludicrous  verse,  and 
that  dozens  of  historians  have  regarded  it  only  as  a  fit  target 
for  critical  epigram.  Michael  Wigglesworth,  author  of  The 
Day  of  Doom,  was  probably  edified  by  the  beauties  of  the 


Colonial  Literature  from  1600  to  1700    385 

Bay  Psalm  Book,  for  he  seems  to  have  adopted  it  for  his 
poetic  standard.  He  was  a  theologian  of  the  sternly  Cal- 
vinistic  type  who  put  into  verse  all  the  sense  of  present  help- 
lessness and  future  horror  which  belonged  to  the  solemn 
creed  of  predestination.  His  masterpiece  was  The  Day  of 
Doom,  A  poetical  description  of  the  great  and  last  judgment. 
Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  though  his  poetry  is  almost  as  bad 
as  that  in  the  luckless  Psalm  Book,  it  was  enormously  popular 
in  his  day;  but  it  was  a  perverted  poem  fed  to  an  abnormal 
appetite. 

Mrs.  Anne  Bradstreet. — The  only  genuine  poet  of  this  first 
century  was  Anne  Bradstreet.  She  endured  all  the  toils  of 
a  farmer's  wife  and  the  responsibilities  of  a  mother  of  eight 
children;  yet  in  spite  of  these  burdens  she  wrote  a  consider- 
able body  of  verse,  much  of  which,  contrary  to  the  custom  of 
the  Puritans,  "  deviated  into  downright  poetry."  The  nature 
of  her  work  can  in  part  be  understood  from  the  long  title  to 
her  publication  of  1850:  The  Tenth  Muse  lately  sprung  up  in 
America;  or  Several  Poems,  compiled  with  great  wit  and 
learning,  full  of  delight;  wherein  especially  is  contained  a 
complete  discourse  and  description  of  the  jour  elements,  con- 
stitutions, ages  of  man,  seasons  of  the  year;  together  with  an 
exact  epitome  of  the  four  monarchies,  viz.,  the  Assyrian,  Per- 
sian, Grecian,  Roman;  also  a  dialogue  between  Old  England 
and  New  concerning  the  late  troubles;  with  divers  other  pleasant 
and  serious  poems,  by  a  gentlewoman  in  those  parts.  It  is 
sufficiently  evident  that  there  is  little  lightness  of  touch  to  be 
expected  in  such  a  production.  It  does  possess,  however,  a 
fluent  and  rather  dignified  verse  scheme,  a  richness  of  imagi- 
nation, coupled  with  an  over-eagerness  to  emulate  the  fan- 
tastic ingenuities  of  the  English  Jacobean  poets.  The  work 
is  better  than  anything  else  done  in  her  generation  in  Amer- 
ica. Her  most  effective  poem,  "  Contemplation,"  a  placid 
meditation  on  the  delights  of  nature,  written  late  in  her  life, 
is  far  superior  to  many  of  the  laborious  productions  of  her 
English  contemporaries. 


386         American  Literature  Before  1800 


III.  JONATHAN   EDWARDS    (1703-1755)    AND    BENJAMIN 
FRANKLIN    (1706-1790) 

The  Spirit  of  the  Eighteenth  Century. — The  division  of  the 
whole  Colonial  period  into  halves  calls  attention  to  the 
changing  conditions  at  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. If  this  century  itself  be  cut  in  two,  a  further  change 
in  the  nature  of  the  problems  to  which  thinking  people 
were  giving  their  attention  becomes  evident  about  1750. 
From  1600  to  1700  practically  all  the  literature  had  been 
intensely  individual.  From  John  Smith  to  Sarah  Kemble 
Knight  the  authors  presented  their  own  impressions  and- 
personal  experiences,  whether  these  had  to  dc  with  this  life 
or  the  prospects  of  a  world  to  come.  By  the  middle  of  the 
century,  however,  communities  were  firmly  established  and 
things  intellectual  began  more  generally  to  get  their  due. 
English  customs  of  thought  were  coming  to  be  much  more 
influential  in  America  than  they  had  been  a  century  before, 
when  the  pick  of  the  inhabitants  had  been  voluntary  exiles 
or  even  refugees  from  the  mother  country.  The  fashion  of 
the  day  in  England  was  the  fashion  of  the  worldly  wise  man. 
It  was  an  age  given  over  to  the  study  of  social  life  as  it  could 
be  seen  on  the  streets,  at  the  club,  in  the  coffee-house,  in  the 
church,  and  at  the  court.  It  was  a  rationalizing  period  from 
which  all  mystery  was  absent.  Religion  was  a  reputable 
practice  for  respectable  people;  patriotism  was  something 
to  be  observed  without  personal  sacrifice;  love  of  home  was 
Jess  devout  than  in  the  age  to  come.  The  worldly  wisdom 
of  Pope  and  Addison  was  a  high  ideal  for  the  generation. 

English  Influence  on  America. — In  searching  for  the  effect 
of  all  this  upon  America,  one  would  expect  to  find  in  the 
colonies,  too,  an  application  of  common-sense,  the  cardinal 
quality  of  England.  With  reference  to  the  life  of  the  com- 
munity just  this  is  to  be  found.  The  same  general  problems 
are  treated  in  a  new  way.  In  the  first  hundred  years  of  the 
colonies  the  demands  of  material  life  had  been  in  the  as- 
cendency. In  the  eighteenth  century  it  was  possible  to  turn 
the  attention  from  the  necessities  to  certain  of  the  conven- 


Jonathan  Edwards  387 

iences  of  life,  and  invention  began  to  take  the  place  of  the 
ruder  forms  of  manual  labor.  In  the  first  hundred  years 
with  tears  and  sighs  and  lamentations  the  Puritan  had  pros- 
trated himself  before  the  Lord  and  examined  his  own  heart 
to  see  if  it  was  good.  Now  heresy  began  to  spread.  The  age 
was  moral  rather  than  religious,  and  the  study  of  ethics  in  its 
application  to  man's  civic  duties  took  in  some  measure  the 
place  of  the  faith  of  the  Puritan.  In  the  first  hundred  years 
schools  had  been  established  in  order  that  children,  by  learn- 
ing the  Scriptures,  might  "  foil  the  old  deluder,  Satan." 
Now  the  spirit  of  education  became  universal,  and  its  aim 
was  to  put  men  in  possession  of  all  good  books,  and  to  ac- 
quaint them  with  their  duty  as  members  of  the  state.  Two 
men  stand  out  preeminent  at  this  mid-period,  both  born  at 
the  very  opening  of  the  century,  and  both  enormously  active 
minded  and  progressive — Jonathan  Edwards  and  Benjamin 
Franklin. 

Jonathan  Edwards's  Life. — Edwards,  born  in  1703,  de- 
veloped into  the  greatest  American  divine  since  Cotton 
Mather.  Like  Mather,  he  was  precocious  as  a  youth,  and 
as  a  man  wonderfully  diversified  in  his  interests  and  activ- 
ities, "  fructuosus  "  in  his  good  works,  merciless  in  his  dis- 
cipline of  self,  and,  consequently,  insatiable  in  his  demands 
upon  others.  He  was  born  in  East  Windsor,  Conn.,  grad- 
uated from  Yale  in  1720,  a  tutor  in  the  college  1 724-1 726, 
and  then  pastor  in  the  Northampton  church  till  1750.  In 
this  significant  year,  on  account  of  the  unrelenting  rigor  of 
his  demands  upon  his  parishioners,  he  was  dismissed  from 
the  church.  For  seven  years  he  acted  as  missionary  to  the 
Indians  near  Stockbridge.  Then,  in  1758,  he  became  presi- 
dent of  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  at  Princeton,  and  a  month 
later  came  to  an  untimely  death  as  the  result  of  inoculation 
against  the  small-pox. 

Edwards  as  an  Original  Thinker. — The  first  half  of  his  life 
is  by  far  the  more  remarkable.  As  a  boy  he  was  uncommonly 
precocious  in  his  command  of  the  most  abstruse  philosophy. 
At  the  same  time  he  was  an  extraordinarily  promising  student 
of  natural  science.  The  catalogue  of  his  achievements  in 
astronomy,  geology,  biology,  and  physics  is  wellnigh  incred- 


388         American  Literature  Before  1800 

ible.  As  might  be  expected,  his  first  attitude  toward  re- 
ligion was  one  of  free  inquiry.  "  From  my  childhood  up 
my  mind  had  been  full  of  objections  against  the  doctrine  of 
God's  sovereignty  in  choosing  whom  He  would  to  eternal 
life  and  rejecting  whom  He  pleased.  ...  It  used  to  appear 
like  a  horrible  doctrine  to  me."  But  he  "  convinced  and 
fully  satisfied  "  himself  of  the  truth  of  this  doctrine,  and 
finally  turned  all  his  wonderful  powers  of  mind  to  expounding 
its  horrors  to  awe-stricken  congregations.  To-day  Jonathan 
Edwards  is  remembered  for  two  things.  One  is  the  great 
promise  of  his  youth,  as  with  his  eyes  to  the  future  he  searched 
the  heart  of  nature  and  arrived  at  conclusion  after  conclusion 
which  was  far  in  advance  of  his  time;  the  other  is  the  work  of 
his  maturity,  as  he  turned  toward  the  past  and  devoted  all 
his  sermonic  skill  to  reaffirming  the  savage  doctrines  of  the 
Calvinistic  faith. 

Franklin's  Life. — Benjamin  Franklin,  the  other  great 
mid-century  man  of  letters,  furnishes  interesting  points  of 
comparison  and  contrast  with  Edwards.  Their  youthful 
promise,  their  powers  of  intense  application,  their  scientific 
spirit,  and  their  desire  to  share  in  and  contribute  to  the  life 
of  the  community,  are  evident  at  a  glance.  Yet  in  many 
phases  of  character  and  experience  they  were  as  different  as 
two  men  of  the  same  generation  could  well  be.  Franklin 
was  born  in  Boston  in  1706,  the  fifteenth  in  a  family  of 
seventeen  children.  Naturally,  his  father,  a  tallow  chandler, 
was  unable  to  give  his  youngest  son  many  advantages  in  the 
way  of  formal  education.  The  boy's  experiences,  first  in 
his  father's  business  and  then  as  apprentice  in  the  print-shop 
of  his  brother,  his  departure  from  Boston  at  the  age  of  seven- 
teen, his  first  residence  in  Philadelphia,  the  two  years  in 
England,  the  return  to  the  land  of  Penn,  and  his  subsequent 
career  until  he  came  to  be  the  most  remarkable  American  of 
his  time — these  are  all  commonplaces  of  political  and  literary 
history. 

Franklin's  Pursuit  of  Efficiency. — The  one  dominant  feat- 
ure which  appears  consistently  at  every  phase  of  his  life  is 
his  study  of  the  problem  of  personal  efficiency.  His  per- 
sistent and  successful  course  of  self-education,  including  his 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN 
From  a  portrait  by  Duplessis  in  Boston  Public  Library 


390        American  Literature  Before  1800 

deliberate  study  of  Addison  for  the  acquisition  of  a  prose 
style  and  his  exercise  in  the  use  of  the  Socratic  method  to 
develop  skill  in  debate,  his  systematic  tabulation  of  the  moral 
virtues,  his  adoption  of  a  vegetarian  diet,  were  all  part  of  his 
general  scheme  to  make  of  himself  as  powerful  and  smooth- 
running  a  human  machine  as  nature  and  Ben  Franklin  could 
cooperate  to  upbuild.  Of  his  two  best-known  works,  the 
earlier,  Poor  Richard's  Almanac,  owed  its  popularity  for  the 
quarter  century  from  1732  to  1757  to  the  skill  with  which  he 
preached  these  doctrines  to  an  attentive  public,  filling  all  the 
odd  spaces,  as  he  records,  with  original  epigrams,  "  chiefly 
such  as  inculcated  industry  and  frugality,  as  the  means  of 
procuring  wealth,  and  thereby  securing  virtue." 

Franklin's  "  Autobiography." — His  greatest  book  was,  of 
course,  his  Autobiography,  a  piece  of  writing  done  at  odd 
times  between  1770  and  1783  at  the  urgent  request  of  friends 
and  relatives.  The  story  is  carried  only  up  to  1757,  in  the 
thirty-three  years  after  which  most  of  his  finest  achievements 
took  place.  Its  perfect  frankness  and  simplicity,  abounding 
energy,  good  sense,  and  humor  must  be  experienced  at  first 
hand  to  be  appreciated.  The  only  excuse  for  lavishing 
critical  praise  upon  it  is  that  thereby  some  new  readers  may 
perhaps  be  converted  to  it. 

Franklin's  Doctrine  of  Common-Sense. — Franklin  is  the 
one  American  who,  in  the  midst  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
most  completely  embodied  the  spirit  of  his  age.  Edwards 
had  promised  to  rival  him,  but  as  he  grew  older  he  looked 
backward.  Franklin's  eye,  to  the  day  of  his  death,  was 
turned  toward  the  future  of  America.  Edwards  was  pas- 
sionately concerned  with  the  affairs  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven;  Franklin  was  a  tremendous  citizen  of  this  world. 
In  religion  he  was,  alas,  on  the  verge  of  scepticism.  He 
listened  to  the  sermons  of  Whitefield,  the  evangelist,  but 
while  others  were  being  stirred  to  their  hearts'  depths,  he  be- 
came lost  in  admiration  of  the  preacher's  voice  and  in  mental 
computation  of  the  number  of  individuals  by  whom  he  could 
be  heard  in  the  open  air.  Yet  his  doctrine  of  common-sense 
and  clean  morality  made  his  sayings  of  Richard  a  sort  of  Bible 
which  edified  and  influenced  unnumbered  thousands.    In 


Literature  of  the  American  Revolution    391 

education,  again,  his  efforts  were  ultimately  for  the  good  of 
the  state.  As  an  apostle  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  his  work 
as  printer,  publisher,  and  founder  of  a  library,  a  journal,  and 
a  college  would  alone  place  him  among  the  foremost  men  of 
his  day.  All  this  appears  in  his  own  simple,  personal  story; 
but  even  here  his  community  interest  stands  out  in  contrast 
to  what  one  finds  in  the  diaries  and  journals  of  the  preceding 
century.  For  Franklin,  unlike  most  of  his  predecessors, 
not  only  portrayed  life,  but  also  criticised  it  repeatedly  and 
effectively,  and  while  he  was  telling  his  own  story,  was  telling 
very  consciously  the  story  of  the  entire  group  among  whom 
his  circumstances  placed  him. 

IV.    THE   LITERATURE   OF   THE   AMERICAN   REVOLUTION 

The  Rights  of  the  Governed. — As  the  century  progressed, 
the  interest  of  the  Americans  in  themselves  and  their  welfare 
came  rapidly  to  a  climax  in  their  increasing  jealousness  for 
their  own  rights.  This  development  offers  one  more  evi- 
dence of  the  closeness  of  America  to  the  influences  which 
were  actively  working  in  England  and  on  the  Continent. 
Throughout  the  century  in  letters  and  philosophy  the  sub- 
ject of  the  rights  of  the  commoner  was  becoming  more 
important.  Gray,  in  his  famous  Elegy  in  a  Country  Church- 
yard, upheld  the  doctrine  that  the  noble  poor  deserved  their 
monuments  no  less  than  the  noble  rich.  Goldsmith,  in  The 
Deserted  Village,  sang  the  praises  of  the  upright  peasant 
class,  and  Cowper  and  Crabbe  in  England,  like  Burns  in 
Scotland,  wrote  for  increasing  bodies  of  readers  always  on 
the  doctrine  that  all  men  were  created  free  and  equal.  In 
the  meantime,  while  this  theme  was  steadily  gaining  ground 
in  England,  historians  agree  that  in  America  the  rights  of 
the  governed  was  a  subject  of  accumulating  importance  for 
years  and  decades  before  the  actual  outbreak. 

"  Letters  of  an  American  Farmer." — Throughout  most  of 
these  years,  however,  there  was  no  talk  of  separation  from 
the  mother  country.  The  question  was  rather  whether  King 
and  Parliament  might  not  be  convinced  that  they  were  pur- 
suing the  wrong  policy;  and  the  discussion  was  based  on  the 


392         American  Literature  Before  1800 

assumption  that  conditions  as  they  existed  in  America  were 
almost  ideal.  The  best  presentation  of  this  point  of  view 
v/as  made  in  the  Letters  oj  an  American  Farmer,  a  book  ,of 
thirteen  essays  by  a  French  Huguenot,  John  Hector  St.  John 
de  Crevecceur,  who  had  come  to  America  as  a  young  man 
about  the  middle  of  the  century.  He  settled  in  Pennsyl- 
vania, acquired  and  cultivated  farm  lands,  brought  up  a 
family,  and  enjoyed  to  the  full  the  contrast  between  the 
privileges  of  his  later  years  and  the  hardships  of  his  youth. 
The  essays  fall  into  three  groups:  those  resulting  from  his 
travels  up  and  down  the  Atlantic  coast;  the  nature  essays, 
the  most  heartfelt  of  which  is  on  "  The  Pleasures  of  an 
American  Farmer";  and  his  enthusiastic  exposition  of  life  in 
the  New  World  as  contained  in  the  five  successive  chapters 
on  "What  is  an  American?"  All  that  is  desirable  in  life 
seemed  to  him  to  come  from  civic  liberty  and  the  ownership 
of  land.  A  new  society,  uncrowded,  free  from  cramping 
traditions,  and  offering  to  every  man  who  desired  it  the 
chance  to  wrest  a  living  from  the  soil,  was  in  his  eyes  all 
that  mortal  could  wish  for.  He  looked,  moreover,  far  ahead 
of  his  own  generation,  and  saw  in  prospect  that  process  going 
on  which  has  made  America  the  "  melting-pot "  of  the 
nations.  His  genuine  insight  into  the  developing  conditions 
of  his  adopted  country  was  fortunately  coupled  with  a  sim- 
ple, unaffected,  spontaneous  literary  style.  The  combina- 
tion makes  Crevecoeur's  Letters  oj  an  American  Farmer  one 
of  the  few  real  classics  of  Colonial  times. 

The  War  a  Stimulus  to  Writing. — It  was  not  until  after 
Lexington  and  Concord  that  the  Colonies  as  a  whole  were 
ready  to  admit  that  war  was  unavoidable;  but  when  it  came, 
instead  of  putting  a  stop  to  authorship,  it  actually  furnished 
a  new  impulse  for  literary  activity.  In  ordinary  times  of 
war  there  is  little  inclination  and  little  ability  shown  for 
letters.  But  the  present  conflict  was  largely  an  intellectual 
revolt.  Americans  had  not  been  down-trodden  and  op- 
pressed; they  were  prosperous  and,  in  a  certain  measure, 
content.  Their  struggle  was  against  the  possible  loss  of 
freedom  rather  than  a  fight  to  regain  it.  They  felt  that  the 
Stamp  Act,  had  they  not  forced  its  repeal,  would  have  led  to 


Literature  of  the  American  Revolution    393 

further  encroachments  on  their  freedom.  They  resented  the 
tax  on  tea  because  they  thought  that  the  principle  was  wrong. 
So  the  uprising  in  America  was  as  different  from  the  Revolu- 
tion in  France  as  could  be  imagined.  Naturally,  as  it  grew 
out  of  a  difference  of  opinion  between  two  bodies  of  educated 
men,  the  use  of  force,  postponed  until  the  latest  possible 
moment,  was  accompanied  by  a  running  fusillade  of  state 
papers,  orations  and  addresses,  political  essays,  satires,  songs, 
and  ballads.  Throughout  the  war  what  was  said  from  the 
provincial  point  of  view  was  met  by  an  almost  equal  volume 
of  reply  from  the  loyal  supporters  of  the  King  in  America. 
As  time  went  on  the  Tories  found  it  harder  and  harder  to 
get  their  work  printed  and  distributed,  and  they  became  the 
objects  of  increasingly  rabid  hatred  and  abuse;  but  the 
records,  the  best  of  which  are  their  own  writings,  show  that 
they  were  sincerely  devoted  to  their  principles  and  deserving 
of  respectful  admiration  for  the  courage  with  which  they  de- 
fended a  losing  cause. 

Thomas  Paine. — The  prose-writer  whose  works  stand  out 
from  the  great  mass  most  clearly  at  this  distance  is  Thomas 
Paine.  Paine  was  a  strange  meteor  in  the  political  sky.  He 
came  to  America  in  1774,  after  half  a  lifetime  of  failures, 
armed  with  a  letter  from  Benjamin  Franklin.  Going  to 
Philadelphia,  he  "  got  into  such  company  as  would  converse 
with  him,"  as  a  disapproving  Tory  said  quite  truly,  "  and 
ran  about  picking  up  what  information  he  could  about  our 
affairs."  His  first  conclusions  were  strongly  in  favor  of 
attempting  that  reconciliation  which  Burke  advocated  in 
Parliament  as  late  as  March,  1775;' but  by  January  of  1776 
he  had  swung  so  strongly  to  the  other  side  that  he  came  out 
in  print  with  his  Common  Sense  as  the  first  out-and-out  advo- 
cate of  separation  between  the  mother  country  and  the 
Colonies.  The  effect  of  this  work  by  a  "  pilgrim  and  a 
stranger"  was  astounding.  Within  three  months  120,000 
copies  had  been  sold,  and  whereas  public  opinion  had  up  to 
this  time  been  all  against  a  final  and  complete  rupture,  by 
July  4th  the  turning  of  the  tide  was  irrevocably  recorded  in 
the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Paine's  later  works,  The 
Crisis  during  the  war,  and  The  Rights  oj  Man  and  The  Age 


394         American  Literature  Before  1800 

of  Reason  after  it,  all  show  consummate  journalistic  skill  in 
the  handling  of  really  abstruse  themes  in  such  concrete  and 
reasonable  style  that  his  writings  convinced  even  those  whom 
they  shocked.  However,  it  is  interesting  to  know  that, 
though  his  name  has  come  down  to  modern  times  as  that  of 
a  pagan  and  heretic,  most  of  his  dangerous  views  have  been 
absorbed  into  the  orthodoxy  of  to-day. 

John  Trumbull. — Among  the  Revolutionary  satirists  two 
stood  preeminent.  First  is  John  Trumbull,  the  leader  of 
the  "  Hartford  Wits."  Fascinated  by  the  eighteenth-century 
writers  as  a  young  man,  he  followed  in  the  footsteps,  first  of 
Addison  in  the  light  essay,  and  then  of  Pope  in  verse  satire. 
His  best-known  work  is  M'Fingal,  named  after  the  Tory 
leader  in  a  New  England  town  which  is  divided  between 
Royalists  and  Provincials.  The  first  part,  which  includes 
cantos  one  and  two  of  the  complete  poem,  turns  him  to 
ridicule  in  a  town  meeting  where  he  is  overthrown  in  argu- 
ment and  then  roughly  handled.  The  remaining  two  cantos, 
written  six  years  after,  picture  him  later  in  the  same  day 
mobbed,  tarred,  feathered,  and  left  sticking  to  the  liberty 
pole.  He  manages  to  release  himself,  but  when,  in  the 
evening,  he  attempts  to  hold  a  meeting  of  his  allies  in  his 
cellar,  he  is  again  routed  and  is  fortunate,  under  cover  of 
darkness,  to  escape  with  a  whole  skin  to  Boston.  The  sub- 
ject-matter and  the  spirit  of  the  satire  is  American,  and  full 
of  the  bitterness  of  partisan  feeling.  In  form  it  shows  Trum- 
bull's debt  to  Butler's  Hudibras  and  the  satires  of  Churchill, 
as  well  as  to  the  works  of  the  leading  English  poets  from 
Milton  onward. 

Philip  Freneau. — Philip  Freneau,  Trumbull's  companion 
satirist  on  the  Colonial  side,  was  a  Princeton  graduate  of 
1 771.  His  verses,  inspired  by  the  war,  were  distributed  along 
from  1775  to  1 781  and  roughly  indicate  the  course  of  events. 
A  group  of  poems  were  written  and  published  in  the 
autumn  of  1775;  two  of  them,  The  Conquerors  of  America 
Shut  Up  in  Boston  and  The  Midnight  Consultation,  were 
exultant  outbursts  after  the  Concord  fight  in  April  and  the 
battle  of  Bunker  Hill  in  June;  the  third,  Libera  Nos,  Domine, 
an  earnest  prayer  for  escape  from  the  horrors  of  a  long  trial 


Literature  of  the  American  Revolution   395 

at  arms.  Toward  the  middle  of  the  war  Freneau's  confi- 
dence in  ultimate  victory  for  America  found  expression  in 
America  Independent  (1778)  and  George  the  Third,  His 
Soliloquy  jor  1779,  in  which  the  King  is  described  as  being 
pathetically  despondent.  The  poet's  cruel  experience  as  a 
prisoner  in  a  British  ship  impelled  him  to  write  his  furious 
British  Prison  Ship  before  he  was  fully  recovered  from  his 
experience  there.  Later,  in  1780  or  early  in  1781,  he  con- 
tributed his  last  memorable  satire  in  a  mocking  set  of  verses 
on  The  Political  Balance,  or  the  Fates  0}  Britain  and  America 
Compared. 

Aside  from  these  purely  occasional  poems,  Freneau  wrote 
a  considerable  body  of  verse  botn  before  and  after  the  war, 
in  which  his  native  ability  is  evident.  His  many  experiences 
on  the  sea  as  traveller  and  ship's  captain,  and  his  observa- 
tions of  nature  in  the  north  and  in  the  tropics,  share  honors 
with  his  short  ballad  poems  of  American  history  and  tradi- 
tion. Probably  too  much  has  been  made  of  the  fact  that 
Scott  and  Campbell  seem  each  to  have  borrowed  one  line 
from  Freneau;  it  is  much  easier  to  show  that  the  American 
was  clearly  dependent  on  the  English  eighteenth-century  poets 
for  the  structure  and  versification  of  most  of  his  works  than 
to  demonstrate  that  any  of  them  were  greatly  in  debt  to  him. 
A  more  evident  claim  for  prestige  may  be  based  on  the  in- 
disputable facts  that  Freneau,  with  the  single  exception  of 
Anne  Bradstreet,  was  the  first  American  to  write  for  its  own 
sake  poetry  that  will  bear  reading  still,  and  that  as  between 
these  two,  both  in  quality  and  quantity  of  work,  the  New 
Jerseyan  surpasses  the  New  Englander. 

Charles  Brockden  Brown. — There  is  still  one  man  who  be- 
longs in  a  discussion  of  American  letters  of  the  eighteenth 
century — Charles  Brockden  Brown.  He  is  a  lonely  figure, 
for  his  character  and  career  separate  him  from  all  of  the 
foregoing  authors,  without  grouping  him  with  the  great  New 
York  pioneers  who  immediately  follow.  He  was  born  be- 
fore the  Revolution,  in  1771,  and  did  his  chief  work  just  on 
the  century  border-line,  but  for  the  most  part  actually  after 
1800.  Yet  no  trace  of  the  great  struggle  of  his  boyhood 
days  appears  in  his  work,  which  is  done  in  the  spirit  of  cer- 


396        American  Literature  Before  1800 

tain  minor  English  novelists.  As  the  first  American  novelist 
(as  well  as  the  first  professional  man  of  letters)  he  naturally 
was  open  to  English  influence.  The  peculiar  quality  of  the 
man  determined,  moreover,  the  kind  of  English  models 
which  were  bound  to  influence  him.  He  was  a  lover  of 
nature,  and  given  to  solitary  meditations  amidst  romantically 
gloomy  surroundings.  At  the  same  time,  while  he  was  full 
of  pride  in  his  country,  he  had  a  keen  sense  of  the  abuses  in 
human  institutions  which  emphasized  the  difference  between 
what  they  were  and  what  they  were  designed  to  be.  In  view 
of  this  double  liability  to  a  somewhat  sentimental  treatment 
of  man  and  nature,  he  was  a  natural  admirer  of  the  "  Gothic 
romance "  as  developed  by  Horace  Walpole,  Mrs.  Rad- 
cliffe,  "  Monk  "  Lewis,  and,  most  notably  for  him,  William 
Godwin.  Of  Godwin  and  his  Caleb  Williams  Brown  be- 
came an  ardent  admirer.  To  the  modern  sophisticated  novel 
reader  it  is  hard  to  see  just  why.  Godwin's  political  views 
are  better  presented  in  his  essays  than  in  his  fiction,  and  the 
strongest  features  of  his  story  are  surpassed  in  Smollett's 
Roderick  Random.  Caleb  Williams  was,  however,  popular 
and  timely,  and  congenial  to  Brown's  taste;  how  congenial  is 
shown- by  the  striking  resemblances  to  it  in  his  own  work. 
All  his  novels  portray  guiltless — depressingly  guiltless — 
heroes  or  heroines  subjected  to  the  hostilities  of  diabolically 
powerful  foes.  The  whole  narrative  is  regularly  enshrouded 
in  an  atmosphere  of  mystery  which  is  at  last  dissipated  in 
orthodox  fashion  by  a  scientific  explanation.  All  have 
deeds  of  darkness,  sudden  reactions,  shiveringly  prolonged 
passages  of  suspense.  The  characters  are  all  vague,  the  con- 
versations unreal,  the  plots  involved;  but  the  descriptions  of 
nature,  of  mysteriously  effective  backgrounds,  and  of  Ameri- 
can life  are  very  vivid,  and  the  development  of  emotional 
narrative  is  at  times  of  the  highest  order.  Brown  precedes 
Cooper  in  the  use  of  American  subject-matter,  and  Poe  and 
Hawthorne  in  his  use  of  the  mysterious  and  grotesque.  Even 
though  none  of  them  was  consciously  or  appreciably  affected 
by  his  work,  he  still  holds  a  well-earned  place  of  preeminence 
in  this  intermediate  period  in  the  history  of  American 
literature. 


Review  Outline  397 

Concluding  Summary. — To  go  back  to  the  tests  as  to 
whether  or  no  there  was  such  a  thing  as  American  literature 
between  1600  and  1800,  certain  general  conclusions  can  be 
drawn.  There  was  a  great  mass  of  writing  which  portrayed 
the  Colonial  life  and  at  times  passed  criticism  upon  it.  As  a 
result,  the  books  of  the  period  possess  real  vital  quality, 
though,  of  course,  in  varied  degrees.  As  there  was  not,  in 
the  modern  sense,,  either  a  great  reading  public  or  a  class  of 
professional  authors,  there  was  not  a  general  literary  demand. 
This  decreased  the  conscious  attention  of  writers  to  the 
formal  quality  of  their  work,  and  when  this  did  exist  it  was 
in  evident  reflection  of  the  literary  fashions  of  England.  It 
must  be  remembered,  however,  that  all  these  Colonial  writ- 
ings correspond  in  general  to  the  primitive  beginnings  of 
other  literatures.  Considered  in  this  light,  they  surely  lose 
little  by  comparison. 


REVIEW  OUTLINE.— What  is  the  reason  for  the  striking  points 
of  contrast  between  the  primitive  beginnings  of  American  literature 
and  the  early  history  of  the  English,  French,  or  German  literatures? 
In  using  the  term  "  American  Literature  "  for  products  preceding  1800, 
what  tests  may  be  applied  to  determine  whether  the  writing  is  literature 
and  what  tests  to  establish  its  genuine  American  quality  ? 

Certain  broad  statements  may  be  made  concerning  the  state  of  civic 
affairs  in  America  in  connection  with  the  century  marks.  What  are 
these?  What  material  fit  for  literary  treatment  was  presented 'during 
the  early  days  of  settlement?  What  three  general  motives  of  author- 
ship, even  in  those  days  of  distraction,  can  be  enumerated  ?  Mention 
two  writings  from  the  South  and  the  chief  characteristics  in  content 
and  form.  What  fundamental  difference  existed  in  the  character  of 
the  Northern  settlers  and  the  Southern?  How  does  this  account  for 
the  difference  of  their  literary  utterances  ?  What  general  line  of  interest 
is  shown  in  the  writings  of  Ward,  Morton,  Williams,  and  the  Mathers 
up  to  the  time  of  the  Salem  witchcraft  disturbance? 

With  the  end  of  the  century,  what  contrasting  points  of  view  are  il- 
lustrated by  Cotton  Mather's  "  Magnalia,"  by  Samuel  Sewall  in  his 
Diary  covering  a  half  century,  and  the  brief  Journal  of  Mrs.  Knight? 
Make  a  broad  generalization  as  to  the  character  of  the  seventeenth- 


398        American  Literature  Before  1800 

century  verse,  keeping  in  mind  the  general  tests  laid  down  for  the  de« 
termination  of  American  literature.  Can  you  justify  the  introduction 
of  "  The  Bay  Psalm  Book  "  and  "  The  Day  of  Doom  "  in  a  literary  his- 
tory ?  What  can  be  said  of  Mrs.  Anne  Bradstreet's  poetry  as  to  con- 
tent, and  as  to  poetic  form? 

What  were  the  general  habits  of  thought  of  the  eighteenth  century  ? 
In  what  respects  do  these  become  apparent  in  the  difference  between 
eighteenth-  and  seventeenth-century  Colonial  ideas  ?  What  were  the 
chief  facts  of  Jonathan  Edwards's  life?  What  was  the  promise  of  his 
youth  and  young  manhood?  What  was  the  achievement  of  his  later 
years?  On  the  basis  of  Franklin's  experience  up  to  coming  of  age,  why 
would  one  expect  a  different  kind  of  literary  output  from  that  of  Ed- 
wards? .  How  does  his  worldliness  show  itself  in  his  pursuit  of  personal 
efficiency?  In  his  contributions  to  the  life  of  his  community  as  a  lit- 
erary man,  educator,  and  statesman?  What  are  his  chief  works? 
What  are  their  qualities? 

Does  the  approach  of  the  Revolutionary  War  in  America  correspond 
to  any  intellectual  development  in  the  mother  country  during  the  years 
preceding  1775?  What  is  the  value  of  the  M  Letters  of  an  American 
Farmer?  What  is  the  attitude  of  their  writer  toward  the  coming  con- 
flict? Is  this  representative  of  the  Colonies  as  a  whole?  It  is  a  re- 
markable fact  that  during  the  struggle  the  literary  output  should  have 
been  increased.  Is  there  a  reasonable  explanation  for  this?  What 
was  the  influence  of  Thomas  Paine  upon  the  public  opinion  of  1776  to 
1783?  How  does  his  experience  in  this  country  illustrate  the  youth 
and  impressionableness  of  the  country?  In  what  respects  is  the  work 
of  John  Trumbull  American  and  in  what  respects  English?  I 
there  an  essential  difference  between  the  work  of  Freneau  as  a  satirist 
of  the  Revolution  and  as  a  more  spontaneous  poet?  For  what  does 
Charles  Brockden  Brown  defy  classification  either  with  Revolutionary 
writers  or  with  his  immediate  successors  ?  By  what  minor  influences  in 
the  history  of  English  fiction  was  he  influenced  ?  Is  there  any  com- 
parison between  him  and  the  great  American  writers  of  romance  who 
followed  him? 

Recall  the  tests  applied  to  American  literature  at  the  beginning  of 
the  chapter  and  generalize  on  the  basis  of  them  concerning  the  nature 
of  the  writings  during  these  two  hundred  years. 


Reading  Guide  399 

READING  GUIDE.— The  most  useful  general  history  of  this  entire 
period  has  been  written  by  Moses  Coit  Tyler  in  two  parts:  a  "History 
of  American  Literature  During  the  Colonial  Times"  (Putnam),  and 
the  "Literary  History  of  the  American  Revolution"  (Putnam).  The 
former  of  these  is  especially  valuable,  as  it  contains  selections  made 
from  many  authors  who  are  difficult  for  modern  readers  to  reach.  The 
best  collection  of  material  for  the  whole  range  of  American  literature, 
but  particularly  for  these  first  years,  is  Stedman  and  Hutchinson's 
"Library  of  American  Literature,"  eleven  volumes,  the  first  three  being 
devoted  to  this  early  period.  A  few  good  selections  are  contained  in 
"American  Prose,"  by  G.  R.  Carpenter  (Macmillan).  Valuable  his- 
torical background  can  be  secured  through  the  reading  of  selections 
about  this  period  as  presented  in  "Poems  of  American  History,"  edited 
by  B.  E.  Stevenson  (Houghton,  Mifflin).  Valuable  prose  histories  are 
numerous,  but  among  the  most  readable  are  Alice  Morse  Earle's  "The 
Sabbath  in  Puritan  New  England,"  "Home  Life  in  Colonial  Days," 
and  "Customs  and  Manners  in  Puritan  New  England";  John  Fiske's 
"Beginnings  of  New  England"  and  "New  France  and  New  England"; 
Edward  Eggleston's  "The  Beginners  of  a  Nation"  and  "The  Transit 
of  Civilization";  Chamberlain's  "Samuel  Sewall,  and  the  World  He 
Lived  In."  Reprints  are  easy  to  obtain  of  Franklin's  "Autobiography," 
and  the  "Letters  of  an  American  Farmer"  have  recently  been  re- 
published. 

Illustrative  prose  literature  corresponding  to  the  poems  in  American 
history  includes  Hawthorne's  "The  Scarlet  Letter,"  Mary  Johnson's 
"To  Have  and  to  Hold,"  Cooper's  "The  Spy"  and  "The  Pilot," 
Mitchell's  "Hugh  Wynne,"  Ford's  "Janice  Meredith,"  and  Churchill's 
"Richard  Carvel." 


CHAPTER   II 
NEW  YORK  AND  THE   KNICKERBOCKERS 

I.   INTRODUCTION 

New  York  a  New  Literary  Centre. — The  two  centuries  from 
1600  to  1800  completed  a  period  of  preparation  without 
which  the  pioneers  of  the  nineteenth  century  could  not  have 
done  their  work.  As  Irving  and  Cooper  were  growing  up,  a 
new  nation  was  also  first  becoming  aware  of  itself.  All  the 
scattered  experiences  of  the  separate  colonies  were  being 
gathered  into  a  general  fund  of  tradition,  and  rival  interests 
were  slowly  giving  way  to  the  impulse  of  a  common  national 
pride. 

One  result  of  this  unifying  process  was  that  it  was  possible 
to  develop  a  literary  centre  from  which  something  repre- 
sentatively national  could  emanate.  During  the  Revolu- 
tionary period  and  immediately  thereafter  Philadelphia 
served  as  such  a  centre.  Under  normal  circumstances  the 
national  capital  attracts  to  itself  the  authors  and  publishers; 
but  Washington  in  the  District  of  Columbia  differs  from 
London,  Paris,  or  Berlin  in  being  a  compromise  selection. 
The  tide  of  life  flows  by  it,  and  as  a  result  other  cities  have 
enjoyed  what  might  have  been  its  privilege  of  being  the  chief 
home  of  American  letters.  The  first  town  to  do  this  was 
New  York,  birth-place  of  Irving  and  adopted  city  of  Cooper 
and  Bryant.  On  account  of  the  changed  conditions,  the 
work  of  these  men  was  destined  to  be  of  a  different  stamp 
from  that  of  their  predecessors.  Before  their  day,  American 
literature  was  characterized  by  a  certain  degree  of  vigor  and 
given  almost  entirely  to  reproducing  the  life  of  the  country  in 
rough-and-ready  fashion.  In  the  pages  of  these  early  nine- 
teenth-century writers  the  pictures  of  life  are  more  complete; 

400 


Washington  Irving  401 

the  artistic  finish  of  their  work  is  far  higher  in  degree.  All 
of  them  felt  a  great  patriotic  pride  in  their  country,  now 
flourishing  in  independence,  and  all  of  them  enjoyed  what  is 
quite  necessary  to  a  full  and  just  appreciation  of  the  home 
land — varied,  repeated,  and  long-continued  travel  in  foreign 
countries. 

II.  WASHINGTON  IRVING    (1783-1859) 

Irving's  Youth. — Washington  Irving  was  born  in  New 
York,  of  Scotch  and  English  parents,  in  1783.  With  his  ten 
brothers  and  sisters  he  was  brought  up  in  the  narrow  paths 
of  strict  Presbyterianism,  and  by  a  natural  reaction  grew  up 
with  an  abnormally  developed  taste  for  frivolity.  At  sixteen 
his  formal  education,  at  which  he  had  but  faintly  applied 
himself,  was  over,  and  his  failure  to  make  any  head-way  in 
law  during  the  next  five  years  enrolled  him  in  the  distinguished 
company  who  have  developed  by  this  route  into  eminent  men 
of  letters.  At  twenty-one,  threatened  with  consumption,  he 
was  sent  abroad  by  his  family.  He  jaunted  about  through 
France  and  Italy,  seeing  people  and  enjoying  them  with  boy- 
ish eagerness,  and  carefully  abstaining  from  conscientious 
sightseeing.  He  had  more  than  one  adventure  that  was 
moderately  exciting,  and  barely  escaped  from  more  than  one 
promising  romance.  A  journal  which  he  kept  in  Paris  for 
three  weeks  credits  him  with  attendance  on  one  lecture  in 
botany  and  scores  up  seventeen  theatrical  performances. 
After  nearly  two  years  he  returned  to  New  York,  a  complete 
dandy  and  an  'accomplished  idler. 

But  his  training  for  twenty- three  years  had  been  by  no 
means  useless.  He  had  seen  many  peoples  and  had  attended 
perhaps  more  freely  than  he  was  aware  to  their  manners  and 
their  morals.  In  a  fashion  more  or  less  similar  to  that  of  his 
closest  model,  Oliver  Goldsmith,  he  had  knocked  about  the 
world  most  profitably.  Now  he  was  ready  to  produce  some- 
thing worth  while,  as  he  gave  evidence  in  the  Salmagundi 
Papers  of  1806. 

"  Salmagundi  Papers." — These  were  written  in  the  main 
by  Irving  and  J.  K.  Paulding,  and  enjoyed  high  popularity 


WASHINGTON  IRVING 

From  a  painting  by  Charles  Loring  Elliott 


Washington  Irving  403 

for  the  year  in  which  they  ran.  The  young  satirists  blandly 
announced  it  as  their  purpose  "  to  instruct  the  young,  reform 
the  old,  correct  the  town,  and  castigate  the  age."  They  dis- 
coursed on  the  American  political  system  from  election 
methods  to  the  proceedings  of  Congress.  They  touched  up  so- 
ciety for  many  of  its  short-comings,  and  even  jovially  bur- 
lesqued some  of  the  prevailing  literary  fashions.  The  whole 
series  was  done  in  a  mood  of  boyishly  exuberant  good-humor, 
and  it  was  brought  to  a  conclusion  only  by  the  whim  of  its 
irresponsible  authors.  Three  years  later  the  Knickerbocker 
History  oj  New  York  appeared  in  the  same  general  vein,  but 
from  1809  on  there  was  an  increasing  element  of  sober  dignity 
in  Irving's  work. 

"  The  Sketch  Book." — It  was  during  a  seventeen  years' 
absence  from  America  that  The  Sketch  Book  appeared  in 
London  in  181 9,  after  a  long  and  unproductive  period  in 
which  Irving  had  been  dabbling  more  or  less  in  business. 
This,  his  best-known  work,  though  written  and  published  in 
England,  and  for  the  most  part  on  English  subject-matter, 
was  very  evidently  from  the  American  point  of  view.  As  a 
visitor  from  a  new  country,  he  was  fascinated  by  the  dignity 
and.  stability  of  English  life  and  by  the  stalwart  healthiness 
of  English  traditions.  But  at  the  same  time  he  realized  the 
virtues  of  his  own  people  keenly  enough  to  write  with  honest 
indignation  of  those  "  British  Writers  on  America,"  whom  he 
accused  of  deliberately  and  short-sightedly  provoking  hos- 
tility between  the  two  peoples.  Moreover,  two  of  his  three 
short  stories,  epoch-making  in  their  way — "  Rip  Van  Winkle," 
"  Sleepy  Hollow,"  and  "  The  Spectre  Bridegroom  " — are 
interesting  not  only  in  themselves,  but  because  they  put  upon 
American  soil  foreign  traditions  that  endured  the  trans- 
planting and  have  flourished  marvellously  ever  since. 

Irving's  Later  Works. — His  career  was  now  marked  out 
except  for  the  work  that  he  was  to  do  as  a  writer  of  history. 
The  early  period  of  boyish  exuberance  was  over;  The  Sketch 
Book  was  to  be  followed  by  Bracebridge  Hall,  Woljert's 
Roost,  Tales  0}  a  Traveller,  and  The  Alhambra,  all  collections 
of  the  same  general  type;  and  besides  these  and  several 
lesser  books,  he  was  to  write  three  notable  works  as  a  his- 


404       New  York  and  the  Knickerbockers 

torical  biographer — the  lives  of  Columbus,  Goldsmith,  and 
Washington.  With  his  list  of  productions  thus  finely  rounded 
out,  he  passed  through  an  old  age  filled  with  honors,  and  died 
in  1859. 

Irving's  Point  of  View. — Throughout  his  work,  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  Irving's  knowledge  of  the  external  world  and 
his  enjoyment  of  its  oddities  appear  in  his  writings.  He  does 
not  delve  very  deeply  into  life.  In  literary  sympathy  he  be- 
longs with  certain  English  men  of  letters  who  lived  from  one 
to  three  generations  before.  In  his  earliest  and  most  imita- 
tive work  he  is  clearly  indebted  to  Addison  and  Goldsmith 
for  his  style,  and  even  for  certain  obvious  devices  in  essay 
structure.  And  their  point  of  view  was  his.  Of  the  great 
spiritual  problems  which  were  absorbing  men  as  Irving's  life 
progressed,  he  showed  no  deep  consciousness.  It  is  perhaps 
enough  to  define  him  in  this  negative  fashion.  We  might 
call  him  superficial;  but  later  we  should  regret  the  word.  In 
his  way,  which  was  the  way  of  Hazlitt  and  Lamb  and  Gold- 
smith and  Gay  and  Prior,  and  of  many  another  man  from 
the  days  of  Addison  to  the  days  of  Thackeray,  Irving  was 
doing  what  it  fell  naturally  to  his  lot  to  do,  in  interpreting 
the  externals  of  social  life  as  they  caught  and  held  his  attention. 

III.  JAMES   FENIMORE   COOPER    (1789-1851) 

Cooper's  Early  Life. — James  Fenimore  Cooper,  who  was 
born  six  years  after  Irving  and  died  eight  years  before  him, 
shared  the  honors  with  his  contemporary,  succeeding  as 
eminently  with  the  novel  as  Irving  did  with  the  essay.  Like 
Irving,  too,  he  passed  through  a  long  period  of  quite  uncon- 
scious preparation  for  the  life-work  which  was  to  make  him 
famous,  and  like  Irving  he  shows  in  his  books  not  only  his 
training  at  home  but  as  well  his  experiences  abroad.  He  was 
brought  up  at  Cooperstown,  N.  Y.,  a  town  which,  though 
only  a  few  miles  from  Albany,  was,  in  his  boyhood,  a  simple 
frontier  settlement.  After  some  tutoring  with  a  ne'er-do-well 
English  clergyman  in  Albany,  and  two  years  in  Yale,  he  left 
college  with  more  abruptness  than  grace  and  undertook  life 
on  the  sea,  first  on  a  merchantman  and  later  in  the  American 


James  Fenimore  Cooper  405 

navy.  When  just  of  age,  he  resigned  his  commission  to 
marry  the  daughter  of  a  loyal  supporter  of  George  III.  in  the 
War  of  the  Revolution. 

Cooper's  Best  Romances. — It  was  not  until  he  was  past 
thirty  years  of  age,  a  settled  proprietor  of  the  family  estates 
at  Cooperstown,  and  father  of  five  daughters,  that  he  turned 
his  hand  to  writing.  The  story  goes  that  his  first  novel, 
Precaution,  a  tale  of  English  society  life,  was  written  as  an 
expression  of  his  discontent  with  a  similar  work  of  English 
authorship.  It  was  of  little  value  except  to  prove  his  ability. 
But  when  he  wrote  a  war-story,  The  Spy,  based  on  recent 
history  and  using  much  that  his  wife's  family  had  lived 
through,  his  success  was  greater.  Better  still  was  his  achieve- 
ment in  The  Pilot,  a  tale  which  employed  his  own  sea  experi- 
ences placed  against  an  historical  background.  And  he 
worked  the  richest  vein  of  all  when  he  wrote  The  Pioneers, 
which  was  a  development  of  his  own  frontier  life  that  ulti- 
mately was  expanded  into  the  whole  Leatherstocking  series, 
The  Deerslayer,  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans,  The  Pathfinder, 
The  Pioneers,  and  The  Prairie. 

Cooper's  Social  Satires. — If  Cooper's  productions  were 
limited  to  the  list  here  mentioned,  the  loss  of  all  the  others 
would  not  greatly  affect  his  fame.  Unfortunately  for  his  own 
future  peace  of  mind,  however,  he  took  a  journey  abroad  of 
more  than  seven  years  which  influenced  his  whole  subsequent 
career  as  a  literary  man,  and  led  him  to  the  commission  of 
two  serious  literary  errors.  The  first  of  these  was  to  write  in 
essay  style  comments  and  criticisms  on  the  ways  of  Amer- 
icans, Englishmen,  and  Europeans.  His  judgments  were 
many  of  them  sound,  but  his  manner  of  expressing  them  was 
offensive,  for  he  did  not  have  Irving's  gift  of  serving  up  un- 
palatable truths  with  the  piquant  sauce  of  good-humor.  As 
a  result,  though  he  wrote  as  a  loyal  American,  he  made  many 
enemies  and  failed  to  accomplish  his  purpose. 

A  mistake  which  was  yet  more  serious  took  place  when  he 
later  attempted  to  show  his  disapproval  of  his  countrymen's 
shortcomings  in  such  novels  "  with  a  purpose  "  as  The  Mont- 
kins,  Homeward  Bound,  and  Home  as  Found.  He  had 
neither  the  natural  ability  nor  the  training  to  write  fiction  of 


406       New  York  and  the  Knickerbockers 

this  type.  The  consequence  was — more  enemies.  Then, 
when  he  went  a  step  farther  to  suggest  how  Old-World  civili- 
zation might  be  improved  by  the  adoption  of  certain  New- 
World  standards  of  thought  and  action,  the  reading  public 
poured  "contempt  on  all  (his)  pride." 

General  Estimate  of  Cooper. — Throughout  his  later  career, 
nevertheless,  he  wrote  from  time  to  time  the  two  sorts  of 
romance  on  which  his  fame  is  rightly  based :  the  sailor  yarns 
and  the  tales  of  pioneer  life.  In  these  numerous  stories  of 
exciting  bodily  adventure  Cooper  committed  the  faults  which 
are  common  to  authors  who  write  fast  and  abundantly. 
These  have  been  most  aggressively  set  forth  by  Mark  Twain 
in  an  essay  on  Cooper's  literary  offences,  in  which  he  indicts 
the  unfortunate  novelist  on  twenty-eight  different  counts. 
Lowell,  in  his  invaluable  Fable  for  Critics,  is  rather  more 
charitable.  By  all  except  the  most  enthusiastic  it  is  agreed 
that  Cooper  was  often  careless  in  diction,  in  sentence  man- 
agement, and  in  the  employment  of  the  narrative  machinery 
of  plot  structure  and  development.  Most  of  his  men,  what- 
ever their  nation  or  race,  are  conventional,  though  no  more 
conventional  than  the  reader  learns  to  expect  in  stories  which 
are  based  on  event  rather  than  character.  His  women,  it 
must  be  admitted,  are  "all  sappy  as  maples  and  flat  as  a 
prairie."  Yet,  in  spite  of  these  defects,  he  shows  fine  creative 
power. 

"Don't  suppose  I  would  underrate  Cooper's  abilities. 
If  I  thought  you'd  do  that  I  should  feel  very  ill  at  ease; 
The  men  who  have  given  to  one  character  life 
And  objective  existence  are  not  very  rife; 
You  may  number  them  all,  both  prose  writers  and  singers, 
Without  overrunning  the  bounds  of  your  fingers. 
And  Natty  won't  go  to  oblivion  quicker 
Than  Adams  the  Parson,  or  Primrose  the  Vicar." 

Cooper's  leading  male  character,  moreover,  with  his  fine  com- 
bination of  shrewd  sense  and  native  poetry,  whether  he  be 
Harvey  Birch  of  war-times,  Long  Tom  Coffin  at  sea,  or  Natty 
Bumppo  on  the  frontier,  is  placed  before  a  vivid  background 
of  nature  and  plunged  into  an  exciting  rapidity  of  action  that 


William  Cullen  Bryant  407 

well  repays  a  great  deal  of  wading  through  tedious  intro- 
ductions and  unconvincing  dialogues. 

IV.    WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT    (1794-1878) 

Bryant's  Boyhood. — William  Cullen  Bryant  occupies  the 
same  position  with  reference  to  American  poetry  as  Irving 
did  with  relation  to  the  essay  and  Cooper  to  the  novel.  His 
long  life,  like  theirs,  was  begun  before  1800,  and  did  not  end 
till  after  the  mid-century.  In  poetry  he  was  the  first  to  win 
a  wide  audience  in  America,  and  to  secure  recognition  from 
abroad.  He  was  born  in  a  Massachusetts  village  in  1794. 
His  father,  a  country  doctor,  was  a  public-spirited  man, 
active  in  politics,  adept  in  his  profession,  and  among  his 
friends  known,  furthermore,  as  a  scholar.  Bryant's  boy- 
hood is  interesting  because  in  the  Berkshire  hills  he  came  to 
his  first  love  of  nature,  and  because  while  still  in  school  he 
wrote  and  published  his  first  verses.  When  his  college  ex- 
perience came  to  an  abrupt  close  through  lack  of  funds,  he 
went  on  with  his  reading,  and  pored  eagerly  over  such  of  the 
English  poets  as  he  found  in  his  father's  library.  Southey 
and  Covvper  were  the  greatest  whom  he  first  came  to  know, 
Wordsworth  not  falling  into  his  hands  until  he  was  twenty. 
In  181 1  he  wrote  his  "Thanatopsis,"  though  it  was  not  till 
six  years  later  that  it  was  published  in  the  North  American 
Review. 

Law  and  Journalism. — Until  he  was  thirty-one  years  of 
age  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  study  and  practice  of  law, 
swayed  all  the  while  by  his  feeling  for  pure  poetry  in  con- 
tention with  his  desire  to  do  contributive  work  as  a  citizen. 
It  was  a  struggle  between  the  ''Hellenic"  and  the  "Hebraic" 
elements  in  his  nature,  as  Arnold  has  defined  them.  Finally, 
in  1825,  he  abandoned  the  law,  went  to  New  York,  and  by  a 
fortunate  turn  of  events  found  himself  four  years  later  editor 
of  the  New  York  Evening  Post,  a  position  which  he  held 
until  his  death.  During  the  fifty-two  years  of  his  connection 
with  this  journal  the  character  of  his  editorial  writings  gave 
it  increasing  dignity.  He  was  alive  to  the  problems  of  the 
day,  and  eager  to  do  his  part  toward  the  moulding  of  public 


408       New  York  and  the  Knickerbockers 

opinion.  He  was  active  in  organization  of  the  Republican 
party,  a  zealous  supporter  of  Lincoln  in  the  campaign  of 
i860,  and  as  time  went  on  an  ardent  advocate  of  emancipa- 
tion. In  his  closing  years,  by  his  conspicuous  and  popular 
participation  in  public  meetings  of  various  sorts,  he  earned 
the  title  of  "the  old  man  eloquent."  It  was  immediately 
after  the  delivery  of  an  oration  at  the  unveiling  of  a  statue  of 
Mazzini  in  Central  Park  that  he  fell,  sustaining  an  injury 
which  resulted  in  his  death  in  June,  1878. 

Bryant  Not  an  "  Occasional  "  Poet. — Seldom  is  there  so 
emphatic  a  line  between  a  man's  daily  life  and  his  literary 
product  as  was  drawn  during  the  last  half  century  of  Bryant's 
career.  His  work  as  a  journalist  and  his  output  as  a  poet  were 
each  admirable,  yet  they  were  almost  totally  separated.  With 
Poe,  Bryant  held  that  poetry  should  be  devoted  to  the  pursuit 
of  beauty.  His  conscious  work  as  an  intellectual  leader  he 
did  from  his  editorial  chair,  even  while  in  his  capacity  as  an 
artist  he  cried  out  against  "the  vain  low  strife  that  makes 
men  mad."  In  order  to  build  for  beauty  alone  by  touching 
the  emotional  side  of  man,  he  avoided,  except  in  rare  in- 
stances, writing  "occasional"  poetry  and  devoted  his  pen  to 
nature  themes,  whether  in  the  broader  aspects,  as  in  "Thana- 
topsis,"  "A  Winter  Piece,"  "Autumn  Woods,"  "A  Forest 
Hymn,"  or  on  the  more  specific  subjects — "The  Yellow 
Violet,"  "To  a  Fringed  Gentian,"  and  "Robert  of  Lincoln." 

The  Puritan  Survival  in  Bryant's  Poetry. — Frequent  though 
the  comparisons  are  between  Bryant  and  Wordsworth,  the 
two  poets  stand  in  marked  contrast  in  their  attitudes  toward 
God  and  nature.  Wordsworth  regarding  the  external  world 
"in  a  wise  passiveness"  is  uplifted  in  spirit,  for  nature  to  him 
is  a  symbol  of  the  Creator — a  vaguely  abstract  power.  Bry- 
ant, starting  from  the  same  point,  comes  back  to  a  personal 
God  who  rules  His  creatures  by  a  series  of  conscious  volitions, 
and  to  whom  each  individual  is  responsible.  In  his  con- 
ception of  death  this  same  "Hebraic"  point  of  view  appears. 
Just  as  Bryant's  nature  is  not  complete  in  the  power  to  uplift 
the  soul  to  a  height  of  spiritual  calm,  so  death  is  not  simply 
a  profound  abyss  of  despair.  It  is  rather  a  symbol  of  the 
Divine  Judge  who  has  always  inexorably  ruled  mankind. 


William  Cullen  Bryant  409 

Thus  the  old  Puritanic  conceptions  "creep  and  intrude  and 
climb  "  into  a  verse  from  which  the  poet  theoretically  banishes 
them.  As  he  stands  in  bereavement  by  his  father's  grave, 
for  example,  he  recognizes  the  wide  chasm  between  his  own 
stricken  faith  and  the  dogma  to  which  he  has  given  utterance 
in  his  "Hymri  to  Death,"  where  he  extols  death  as  God's  in- 
strument for  striking  down  the  tyrant,  the  atheist,  and  the 
reveller.  With  difficulty  lie  refrains  from  blotting  out  the 
verses  of  his  inexperience.  Again  and  again  recurs  the  con- 
flict between  his  inclination  toward  the  worship  of  beauty  and 
his  inherited  deference  to  traditional  laws  of  conduct  imposed 
from  without. 

"  Thanatopsis." — The  whole  bulk  of  Bryant's  work  is 
slight,  a  fact  which  may  account  for  its  unusual  evenness. 
Though ' '  Thanatopsis  "  was  composed  at  seventeen,  it  may  be 
fairly  chosen  as  representative.  Richard  H.  Dana  asserted 
on  hearing  it  read:  "No  one  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  is 
capable  of  writing  such  verse."  It  is  a  meditation  on  the 
transitoriness  of  human  affairs  as  revealed  by  the  "still 
voice"  of  nature.  In  the  midst  of  eternity  the  poet  stands 
for  a  brief  moment  on  the  shore  of  time  and  tries  to  look 
beyond.  "Under  the  open  sky"  he  makes  a  resolve.  It  is 
sublimely  worded  and  conceived  in  poetic  exaltation.  He 
will  so  rule  his  life  that  when  the  end  draws  near  he  can 
approach  his  grave 

"Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
About  him,  and  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams." 

Milton  recorded  the  same  determination  upon  coming  to 
the  age  of  twenty-three,  Cotton  Mather  and  Jonathan  Ed- 
wards on  each  day  of  their  lives.  For  it  is  the  resolution  of  a 
Puritan  poet. 

The  Form  of  Bryant's  Verse. — In  the  form  of  his  verse 
Bryant  is  more  Wordsworthian  than  in  his  subject-matter. 
He  employs  various  simple  metrical  schemes  with  uniform 
fluency  and  effectiveness.  He  abandons  the  heroic  couplet 
and  uses  blank  verse  in  almost  all  his  more  sustained  and 
elevated  poems.    This,  too,  he  handles  freely,  avoiding  the 


410        New  York  and  the  Knickerbockers 

end-stopped  lines,  and  distributing  his  pauses  at  will.  His 
wording  is  simple  and,  like  Wordsworth's,  free  from  the 
tiresome  circumlocutions  of  the  old-time  "poetic  diction." 
He  takes  adroit  advantage  of  alliteration  without  allowing 
his  effects  to  be  offensively  obvious.  Seldom  are  his  lines 
harsh  or  rough,  almost  invariably  his  phrases  are  discrimi- 
nating, and  as  a  rule  his  work  shows  the  fine  sense  of  a  classical 
scholar  whose  closing  diversion  was  found  in  the  monumental 
labor  of  translating  the  Homeric  stories. 

The  Decline  of  the  Supremacy,  of  New  York. — Before  the 
work  of  these  three  pioneers  was  completed,  the  literary 
supremacy  of  New  York  began  to  wane.  The  poetry  of 
Bryant  was  cool,  quiet,  and  dignified,  and  lacking  "the  one 
merit  of  kindling  enthusiasm."  No  set  of  younger  men 
undertook  to  write  in  the  same  vein.  In  the  meanwhile 
Cooper  was  keeping  alive  a  kind  of  story  which  but  for  him 
would  have  declined  in  popularity  much  earlier  than  it  did; 
for  the  novel  of  adventure  was  giving  way  to  the  novel  of 
character.  Irving  was  the  only  one  of  the  three  who  served 
in  any  degree  as  a  leader  for  his  literary  generation.  The 
Knickerbocker  Magazine,  founded  in  1833,  and  the  so-called 
"Knickerbocker  School"  of  authors  owe  both  their  names 
and  something  of  their  spirit  to  Irving's  famous  character, 
Diedrich  Knickerbocker. 

Irving  was  a  tempting  but  dangerous  model  for  a  group  of 
nineteenth-century  men  to  adopt.  In  the  first  place,  he 
wrote  in  the  spirit  of  a  by-gone  age;  and,  if  this  were  not  a 
sufficient  obstacle,  his  success  lay  in  a  certain  personal  grace 
and  charm  of  character  which  is  seductive  but  almost  im- 
possible to  imitate  with  success.  Of  those  who  tried  it,  some 
fell  into  sentimentalism  and  some  into  cheap  affectation. 
The  fruits  of  this  school — or  the  worst  of  them — were  col- 
lected into  a  variety  of  illustrated  annual  publications.  For 
a  few  years  there  were  scores  of  them  with  names  as  fan- 
tastic as  those  of  the  collections  of  Elizabethan  lyrics — 
Love's  Tokens,  Friendship's  Offerings,  Gems,  Garlands, 
Amulets.  "Those  steel-engraved  beauties  .  .  .  that  High- 
land Chieftain,  that  Young  Buccaneer,  that  Bandit's  Child 
.  .  .  what  kind  of  a  world  did  they  masquerade  in  ?    It  was 


Review  Outline  411 

a  needlework  world,  a  world  in  which  there  was  always 
moonlight  on  the  lake,  and  twilight  in  the  vale;  where  drooped 
the  willow  and  bloomed  the  eglantine,  and  jessamine  em- 
bowered the  cot  of  the  village  maid;  where  the  lark  warbled 
in  the  heavens  and  the  nightingale  chaunted  in  the  grove 
'neath  the  mouldering  ivy-mantled  towers;  ...  a  world  in 
which  there  were  fairy  isles,  enchanted  grottoes,  peris,  gon- 
dolas, and  gazelles.  All  its  pleasantly  rococo  landscape  has 
vanished,  brushed  rudely  away  by  realism  and  a  'sincere' 
art  and  an  'earnest'  literature."  With  the  gentle  decline  of 
New  York,  New  England  reassumed  the  literary  supremacy. 


REVIEW  OUTLINE.— For  what  reason  does  it  happen  that  the 
national  capital  of  America  is  not  a  literary  centre?  As  New  York 
assumes  preeminence,  what  characteristics  are  found  in  the  writers  of 
the  nineteenth  century  who  settled  there?  What  sort  of  training  for 
authorship  did  Irving  secure  up  to  the  writing  of  his  first  satirical 
papers?  What  was  the  nature  of  these?  By  what  broadly  humorous 
work  were  they  followed?  Into  what  two  chief  classes  can  the  con- 
tents of  "  The  Sketch  Book  "  be  grouped  ?  What  subsequent  works  of  the 
same  sort  followed  ?  What  were  his  contributions  to  the  writing  of 
history?  To  what  English  essayists  who  preceded  and  followed  him 
may  Irving  be  justly  compared? 

What  preparation  up  to  the  time  that  Cooper  was  thirty  years  of  age 
did  he  gain  for  writing  stories  of  English  social  life,  of  the  American 
Revolution,  of  life  on  the  sea,  of  life  on  the  frontier?  Why  did  he  de- 
part from  his  successful  romantic  writing  of  fiction?  What  two  at- 
tempts did  he  make  in  other  lines?  What  are  the  most  conspicuous 
defects  in  his  stories  of  adventure,  and  what  are  the  qualities  which 
still  make  them  read  by  readers  of  romance  to-day? 

What  are  the  chief  eventsjn  the  life  of  William  Cullen  Bryant  ?  How 
close  a  relationship  can  be  established  between  his  work  as  a  journalist 
and  his  work  as  a  poet  after  1825?  Cite  the  chief  point  of  contrast 
between  Bryant  and  Wordsworth  in  their  attitude  toward  nature  and 
the  Creator.  In  what  sense  is  Bryant  a  Puritan?  What  points  in 
common  does  he  share  with  Wordsworth  in  the  form  into  whirti  he 
threw  his  work? 

Give  reasons  for  the  failure  of  these  three  New  Yorkers  to  exert  a 


412       New  York  and  the  Knickerbockers 

lasting  and  significant    influence   on  American  literature  during  the 
middle  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

READING  GUIDE — Selections  from  Irving  should  come  first  of  all 
from  "The  Sketch  Book,"  and  include  "The  Author's  Account  of 
Himself,"  "Rip  Van  Winkle,"  "English  Writers  on  America,"  "The 
Spectre  Bridegroom,"  and  "The  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow."  A 
second  group  should  include  "The  Boar's  Head  Tavern,"  "West- 
minster Abbey,"  and  the  five  Christmas  Sketches.  The  best  speci- 
mens of  his  earlier  and  later  styles  are  "The  Salmagundi  Papers"  and 
the  "Life  of  Goldsmith."  Good  one-volume  biographies  are  C.  D. 
Warner's  (American  Men  of  Letters  series)  and  H.  W.  Boynton's 
(Riverside  Biographical  series). 

The  reading  from  Cooper  must  be  limited  in  such  a  course.  Before 
reading  all  the  Leatherstocking  series,  it  is  highly  advisable  to  read 
"The  Spy"  and  "The  Pilot"  in  order  to  see  Cooper  at  his  best  in 
stories  of  military  and  nautical  life.  T.  R.  Lounsbury's  life  of  Cooper 
(American  Men  of  Letters  series)  has  no  close  competitor.  It  is  brief, 
readable,  and  complete. 

The  selections  from  Bryant's  poetry  should  include  "Thanatopsis," 
"To  a  Waterfowl,"  "Hymn  to  Death,"  "Monument  Mountain,"  "The 
Poet."  A  further  group  should  include  "Green  River,"  "To  the 
Fringed  Gentian,"  "Song  of  Marion's  Men,"  "The  Planting  of  the 
Apple-Tree,"  "Robert  of  Lincoln."  Two  good  one-volume  biog- 
raphies are  John  Bigelow's  (in  American  Men  of  Letters  series)  and  W. 
A.  Bradley's  (in  English  Men  of  Letters  series).  Among  the  best 
critical  essays  are  those  by  Churton  Collins,  in  "The  Poetry  and  Poets 
of  America";  E.  C.  Stedman,  in  "Poets  of  America";  and  Walt  Whit- 
man, in  "Specimen  Days,"  April  16,  1881. 


CHAPTER   III 
A   GROUP   OF   SPIRITUAL  LEADERS 

I.    TRANSCENDENTALISM  IN  NEW  ENGLAND 

Definition  of  Transcendentalism. — During  the  second  quar- 
ter of  the  nineteenth  century  there  developed  in  New  England 
a  group  of  thinkers  and  writers  the  quality  of  whose  work 
was  wholly  different  from  that  of  the  leaders  in  American 
letters  who  preceded  them.  The  passing  of  the  influence  of 
the  great  New  York  pioneers  in  essay,  novel,  and  poetry  has 
been  accounted  for  in  the  last  chapter.  The  time  was  there- 
fore ripe  for  the  rise  of  new  and  vigorous  leaders  in  American 
life;  and  the  men  who  were  to  assert  themselves  were  being 
bred  along  the  Massachusetts  seaboard  during  those  years 
in  which  Irving,  Cooper,  and  Bryant  were  at  their  height. 
They  are  known  as  Transcendentalists  because  of  their  belief 
in  "A  system  of  philosophy  founded  on  the  assumption  that 
there  are  certain  great  truths,  not  based  on  experience,  not 
susceptible  of  proof,  which  transcend  human  life,  and  are 
perceived  directly  and  intuitively  by  the  human  mind." 
They  were,  it  is  evident,  a  group  of  reactionaries  against  the 
hard  common-sense  which  had  dominated  eighteenth-century 
philosophy  and  literature  before  the  triumph  of  the  Romantic 
Movement. 

New  England  Hospitable  to  New  Ideas. — New  England  was 
fertile  ground  for  such  a  system  of  thinking  as  this.  It  had 
flourished  in  Germany  during  the  later  years  of  the  eighteenth 
century  and  the  opening  of  the  nineteenth.  Through  con- 
structive English  thinkers  it  had  been  imported  to  England, 
such  leaders  as  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  and  Carlyle  per- 
forming the  work  of  transmission.  In  part  through  their  in- 
fluence, though  in  part  from  other  causes,  it  had  taken  root 

413 


414  A  Group  of  Spiritual  Leaders 

on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  Yet  only  in  Massachusetts  did 
it  so  far  affect  a  considerable  body  of  people  and  so  far  shape 
their  conduct  of  life  as  to  earn  the  title  of  "Transcendental- 
ism" as  a  school  of  philosophy  definitely  located  in  time  and 
place.  There  was  a  natural  reason  for  this.  Society  in  the 
New  World  was  in  a  plastic  state,  free  as  no  Old-World 
society  was  from  the  trammels  of  tradition.  The  country 
had  passed  recently  through  the  wars  of  the  Revolution  and 
of  1812.  It  was  no  time  for  the  smug  adoption  of  self-satis- 
fied orthodoxy  in  creed  and  conduct.  Little  was  maintained 
simply  because  of  its  age.  Religious  theory  in  America  had 
experienced  great  modifications;  statehood  was  still  much 
more  of  a  possibility  than  an  achieved  fact.  The  condition 
of  affairs  was  at  once  full  of  promise  and  full  of  danger;  it 
was  a  period  of  delight  for  the  mercurial  temperament.  In 
the  most  serious  thinkers,  however,  was  aroused  the  feeling 
of  mingled  distress,  irritation,  and  alarm  at  the  flightiness  of' 
the  community  mind.  Sometimes  they  commented  upon  the 
situation  in  seriousness,  but  more  often  with  a  touch  of 
humor.  Says  Emerson  in  one  mood:  "The  reforms  whose 
fame  now  fills  the  land  with  Temperance,  Anti-slavery,  Non- 
resistance,  New- government,  Equal-labor,  fair  and  generous 
as  each  appears,  are  poor,  bitter  things  prosecuted  for  them- 
selves as  an  end."  In  another  he  writes  whimsically  to  Car- 
lyle:  "Not  a  reading  man  but  has  a  draft  of  a  new  com- 
munity in  his  waistcoat  pocket.     I  am  gently  mad  myself." 

The  Inspiration  to  Self-Perfection. — In  such  a  soil  and  in 
such  an  atmosphere  Transcendentalism  took  root  and  flour- 
ished. What  were  the  great  truths  which  transcended  human 
experience  upon  which  the  new  school  laid  its  foundations  of 
belief  ?  They  believed,  as  one  can  see  perhaps  most  easily  in 
Emerson  and  Thoreau,  in  the  creation  as  a  great  unity  of 
which  God  is  the  centre,  Man  the  noblest  achievement,  and 
Nature  the  physical  symbol.  In  this  great  scheme  the  in- 
dividual soul  was  to  them  the  chief  fact,  and  the  chief  duty 
was  proper  nurture  of  this  soul.  Each  man,  they  believed, 
included  within  himself  a  spark  of  the  divine.  His  task  in 
life  was  therefore  to  do  justice  to  his  own  nature  by  perfecting 
himself  to  discharge  as  best  he  could  his  duties  in  an  earthly 


Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  415 

life.  The  escape  from  one  kind  of  hereafter  was  an  affair 
of  little  interest  to  him,  the  enjoyment  of  another  kind  a 
f  matter  which  could  take  care  of  itself.  The  greatest  problem 
of  man  was  how  best  to  comport  himself  as  a  God-created 
individual  in  the  community  in  which  God  had  placed  him. 
For  guidance  he  looked  into  his  own  heart,  and  to  nature, 
which  was  to  him  a  symbol  of  the  Most  High. 

II.  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON    (1803-1882) 

Emerson's  Youth  and  Education. — Ralph  Waldo  Emerson, 
the  high-priest  of  Transcendentalism,  was  born  in  Boston  in 
1803.  He  came  of  good  blood,  boasting  among  his  ancestors 
on  both  sides  a  surprising  number  of  the  intellectual  aristo- 
crats of  New  England,  the  members  of  the  professional  class. 
As  was  to  be  expected,  he  went  to  the  Boston  Latin  School 
and  from  there  to  Harvard.  At  college  he  was  not  a  leader 
in  social  or  intellectual  activities.  His  acquaintances,  even 
while  they  respected  him,  greatly  deplored  his  apparent  lack 
of  masculine  qualities.  "He  was  so  universally  amiable  and 
complying,"  wrote  one  of  them,  "that  my  evil  spirit  would 
sometimes  instigate  me  to  take  advantage  of  his  gentleness 
and  forbearance;  but  nothing  could  disturb  his  equanimity." 
Between  the  time  when  he  was  graduated  and  the  year  in 
which  he  began  studying  for  the  ministry,  he  is  remembered 
as  a  school-teacher  by  certain  youths  who  regarded  him  with 
an  almost  awful  respect.  Unattracted  by  the  possibilities  of 
pedagogy,  he  resorted  to  the  church,  studying  in  the  Harvard 
Divinity  School  and  finally  receiving  his  degree  without  ex- 
amination by  virtue  of  the  fact  that  trouble  with  his  eves  had 
prevented  him  from  taking  regular  lecture  notes. 

Emerson  as  a  Clergyman. — At  the  age  of  twenty-nine  he 
unexpectedly  found  himself  pastor  of  the  leading  church  in 
Boston,  and  here,  if  he  had  chosen  to  remain  in  the  rather 
easy  path  of  orthodoxy  marked  out  by  the  most  liberal  of 
churches,  he  might  have  continued  in  possession  of  a  very 
comfortable  ecclesiastical  berth  as  long  as  he  lived.  But  he 
was  destined  to  "belong"  to  no  church;  he  was  moving 
toward  a  condition  of  absolute  freedom  of  thought;  and  it 


416  A  Group  of  Spiritual  Leaders 

was  therefore  probably  just  an  accident  that  the  issue  which 
became  a  vital  one  happened  to  be  the  necessity  for  his  ad- 
ministering the  sacrament  of  the  Holy  Communion  to  his 
congregation.  He  believed  that  the  formal  rite  was  being 
observed  by  a  generation  which  did  not  feel  its  original 
significance,  and  with  this  belief  in  mind  preached  a  sermon 
which  concluded  with  these  words:  "I  have  no  hostility  to 
this  institution;  I  am  only  stating  my  want  of  sympathy  with 
it.  That  is  the  end  of  my  opposition  to  it,  that  I  am  not  in- 
terested in  it.  I  am  content  to  let  it  stand  to  the  end  of  the 
world  if  it  please  man  and  if  it  please  Heaven.  And  I  shall 
rejoice  in  all  the  good  it  produces." 

Emerson's  English  Friends. — Soon  after,  as  a  natural  con- 
sequence, his  duties  with  the  Second  Church  of  Boston  came 
to  an  end,  and  he  began  his  career  anew.  His  first  step  was 
to  go  abroad,  visiting  in  the  course  of  his  trip  those  centres 
of  European  life  which  travellers  all  "do"  on  their  first  jour- 
ney, but  coming  also  into  contact — and  this  was  far  more 
important — with  certain  of  the  great  English  men  of  letters. 
Landor  and  De  Quincey  he  enjoyed;  Wordsworth  he  revered; 
and  with  Carlyle  he  entered  into  an  acquaintance  which  de- 
veloped into  a  life-long  friendship.  Two  years  after  his 
resignation  he  moved  to  Concord,  where  he  lived  for  nearly 
all  the  half  century  which  remained  to  him. 

"  Nature." — During  his  early  years  in  the  town  appeared 
in  annual  succession  the  most  significant  trio  of  essays  he  was 
to  write.  In  1836  was  published  a  tiny  volume  under  the 
title  Nature.  It  was  Emerson's  second  public  appeal  for 
vigorous,  thoughtful,  individual  independence.  The  key- 
note is  in  the  first  paragraph:  "Our  age  is  reduced  to  the 
sepulchre  of  the  fathers;  it  writes  biographies,  histories,  and 
criticisms.  The  foregoing  generations  beheld  God  and  Na- 
ture face  to  face;  we,  through  their  eyes.  Why  should  not 
we  also  enjoy  an  original  relation  to  the  Universe?"  He 
tells  of  the  delight  he  feels  in  the  presence  of  God's  creation, 
and  sees  in  it  a  source  not  merely  of  physical  pleasure,  but  of 
creative  inspiration,  and  a  motive  for  righteous  living.  The 
reception  of  the  booklet  was  not  promising,  only  a  few  copies 
being  sold  in  a  considerable  time.    Most  of  the  American 


From  a  Photograph,  Copyright,  by  Elliott  and  Fry 

RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 


418  A  Group  of  Spiritual  Leaders 

critics,  moreover,  were  hostile.  In  contrast,  Carlyle  was 
emphatic  in  his  commendation,  and  he  lent  it  about  to  all 
his  friends  "that  had  a  sense  for  such  things,"  always  re- 
ceiving a  similar  verdict. 

"The  American  Scholar." — The  matter  of  applause  was 
of  no  great  moment  to  Emerson,  however,  and  he  went  on  in 
1837  to  preach  his  gospel  of  independence  to  The  American 
Scholar.  This  essay,  perhaps  the  most  completely  organized 
of  his  productions,  was  read  to  the  honorary  scholarship  so- 
ciety at  Harvard.  At  the  outset,  as  in  the  opening  lines  of 
Nature,  he  sounds  the  cry  of  freedom:  "Our  day  of  depen- 
dence, our  long  apprenticeship  to  the  learning  of  other  lands, 
draws  to  a  close."  Then  he  writes  of  the  three  great  influ- 
ences which  surround  the  scholar — that  of  nature,  that  of 
the  past,  that  of  life.  All  of  them  demand  that  he  have  con- 
fidence in  himself.  "Let  him  not  quit  his  belief  that  a  pop- 
gun is  a  pop-gun,  though  the  anointed  and  honorable  of  the 
earth  affirm  it  to  be  the  crack  of  doom." 

The  "  Divinity  School  Address." — So  inspiring  was  this 
appeal  to  his  auditors  that  a  year  later  he  was  reinvited  to 
Cambridge,  this  time  to  speak  to  the  students  of  the  Divinity 
School.  As  in  his  address  to  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society, 
he  made  a  demand  for  honest  freedom  of  opinion ;  but  when 
he  applied  his  principles  to  religion  the  conservatism  which 
always  jealously  stands  guard  over  it  was  shocked  and  horri- 
fied. It  was  indeed  a  new  thing  for  a  distinguished  official 
speaker  to  bid  a  group  of  divinity  students  to  cast  behind 
them  all  conformity.  Yet  it  was  no  more  than  Emerson  had 
done  with  respect  to  every  great  problem  that  he  had  faced. 
His  feeling  was  that  he  could  trust  his  conclusions  only  when 
he  had  worked  them  out  for  himself,  and  this  process  he 
asked  of  all  to  whom  he  gave  advice.  Unconformity  did  not, 
therefore,  mean  to  him  disagreement  with  others,  but  rather 
freedom  to  agree  or  to  differ  with  them  as  his  honest  judg- 
ment might  dictate. 

Emerson's  work  for  the  remainder  of  his  life  followed  the 
lines  marked  out  in  these  early  essays.  Whatever  the  sub- 
ject on  which  he  wrote,  he  was  dealing  with  great  funda- 
mental ideas.    He  was  seeking  and  finding  his  inspiration 


Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  419 

in  nature,  in  books,  and  in  the  life  about  him.  He  was 
always  conscious  of  his  own  noble  duty  as  a  subject  of  God, 
and  was  practising  what  he  preached,  the  fullest  development 
of  his  own  powers.  And  he  was  perfecting  himself  as  far  as 
he  might  in  order  best  to  serve  his  fellows.  No  single  passage 
better  sums  up  Emerson's  philosophy  of  life  than  this: 

"Solitude  is  impracticable  and  society  fatal.  We  must 
keep  our  head  in  one  and  our  hands  in  the  other.  The  con- 
ditions are  met,  if  we  keep  our  independence,  yet  do  not  lose 
our  sympathy." 

Emerson  and  the  New  England  Lyceum. — The  result  of 
Emerson's  withdrawal  from  the  pulpit  of  the  Second  Church 
of  Boston  was  simply  that  he  continued  to  preach  under 
secular  auspices,  exchanging  the  pulpit  for  lecture  platform. 
The  old  New  England  Lyceum  was  a  rare  institution  of 
which  we  can  get  only  a  partial  conception  to-day.  With  a 
perfect  development  of  journalism,  the  enormous  circulation 
of  cheap  and  more  or  less  improving  magazines,  the  great 
number  of  low-priced  books,  the  rise  of  the  public-library 
system,  and  the  social  and  literary  extension  of  the  school  in 
the  community,  with  the  adoption  of  the  summer  assembly 
and  the  correspondence  course  by  the  best  of  our  colleges  and 
universities,  we  of  the  twentieth  century  enjoy  opportunities 
which  in  Emerson's  day  were  hardly  dreamed  of.  Yet  to-day 
there  is  no  single  medium  for  general  culture  which  could 
rival  the  excellence  of  the  old  Lyceum.  The  speakers  of 
the  stamp  of  Emerson,  Hawthorne,  and  Thoreau,  of  Theo- 
dore Parker  and  Holmes  and  Whittier,  of  Sumner,  Webster, 
Phillips,  are  hard  to  be  found  except  under  extraordinary 
circumstances  and  before  high-priced  audiences.  But  men 
such  as  these  members  of  the  academic  tribe  were  speaking 
all  over  New  England  to  little  audiences  in  little  towns  and 
for  little  pay,  on  the  great  subjects  of  the  hour.  The  field 
was  therefore  ready  for  such  a  man  as  Emerson,  and  attentive 
or  even  devout  audiences  gathered  for  nearly  a  generation 
wherever  he  was  announced  to  speak.  It  is  to  be  anticipated 
that  he  sometimes  must  have  spoken  over  their  heads,  and 
that  from  every  lecture  some  must  have  gone  away  more 
edified  than  instructed.    Yet  even  when  the  plain  New  Eng- 


420  A  Group  of  Spiritual  Leaders 

land  folk  left  his  presence  with  a  wistful  desire  that  he  had 
spoken  more  simply,  the  testimony  of  thousands  remains 
that  the  sound  of  his  voice  was  an  inspiration,  and  his  pres- 
ence a  benediction. 

Emerson's  Influence. — Lowell  writes  an  essay  in  gratefuj 
tribute  to  Emerson's  work  as  a  lecturer,  dwelling  for  the 
most  part  upon  his  personal  effect  on  each  hearer,  in  spite  of 
a  certain  obscurity  in  his  style.  "To  some  of  us  that  long 
past  experience  remains  as  the  most  marvellous  and  fruitful 
we  have  ever  had.  .  .  .  Did  they  say  he  was  disconnected  ? 
So  were  the  stars  that  seemed  larger  to  our  eyes,  still  keen 
with  that  excitement,  as  we  walked  homeward  with  prouder 
stride  over  the  creaking  snow.  .  .  .  Were  we  enthusiasts? 
I  hope  and  believe  we  were,  and  am  thankful  to  the  man  who 
made  us  worth  something  for  once  in  our  lives.  If  asked 
what  was  left?  what  we  carried  home?  we  should  not  have 
been  careful  for  an  answer.  It  would  have  been  quite 
enough  if  we  had  said  that  something  beautiful  had  passed 
that  way.  Or  we  might  have  asked  in  return  what  one 
brought  away  from  a  symphony  of  Beethoven?"  It  is  such 
passages  as  this — and  there  are  scores  of  them  in  the  literature 
of  American  biography  and  reminiscence — which  prove  be- 
yond doubt  the  width  and  depth  of  Emerson's  influence  on 
modern  thought.  The  number  of  his  readers  to-day  is  com- 
paratively limited,  just  as  was  the  number  of  intelligent  hearers 
in  his  own  lifetime;  but  then  as  now  thinking  people  pos- 
sessed themselves  of  his  ideas  and  passed  them  on  to  the 
multitude.  It  is  impossible  exactly  to  measure  his  contribu- 
tion to  the  preachers  and  teachers  and  poets  of  the  twentieth 
century.    There  is  slight  danger  of  over-estimating  it. 

HENRY    D.     THOREAU     (1817-1862)     AND    THE    LESSER 
TRANSCENDENTALISTS 

Thoreau's  Life. — Of  all  the  men  who  came  under  Emer- 
son's spell,  none  has  written  with  more  freshness  or  originality 
than  his  townsman,  Henry  D.  Thoreau.  He  was  born  at 
Concord  in  181 7;  he  received  his  degree  from  Harvard  with 
the  class  of  1837.    Returning  to  Concord,  where  Emerson 


Henry  D.  Thoreau  421 

was  now  established,  he  spent  here  the  quarter  century  re- 
maining to  him  before  his  death  in  1862.  He  lived  with  the 
greatest  simplicity,  earning  what  he  needed  from  manual 
labor,  now  in  his  father's  business  of  pencil-making,  or, 
again,  in  surveying  or  carpentering.  Through  his  ability  to 
do  without  things,  and  the  ease  with  which  he  could  satisfy 
his  simple  desires,  he  secured  for  himself  leisure  and  con- 
tentment beyond  the  power  of  gold  to  buy.  Like  that  other 
American  of  French  lineage,  Crevecceur,  he  prized  civic 
freedom  extravagantly,  but  in  contrast  with  the  author  of 
The  American  Fanner  he  felt  that  the  possession  of  property 
was  more  of  a  curse  than  a  blessing.  "I  see  young  men,  my 
townsmen,  whose  misfortune  it  is  to  have  inherited  farms, 
houses,  barns,  cattle,  and  farming  tools;  for  these  are  more 
easily  acquired  than  got  rid  of."  The  most  notable  experi- 
ence of  Thoreau's  life  was  his  residence  at  Walden,  a  pond 
some  two  miles  out  from  Concord.  Here  he  built  a  house 
for  himself  at  a  cost  of  a  little  over  twenty-eight  dollars,  and 
here  he  lived  for  something  over  two  years,  earning  enough 
from  labor  and  the  sale  of  garden  produce  to  meet  his  ex- 
penses of  about  four  dollars  a  month.  He  wrote  regularly 
during  this  period  and  after  it,  publishing  two  books  during 
his  life  and  contributing  to  several  magazines.  After  his 
death  some  eight  more  volumes  were  edited  and  published 
by  his  literary  executor. 

"  Walden." — Walden,  his  chief  work,  contains  in  essence 
all  that  is  to  be  found  in  his  complete  writings.  The  im- 
pressions gained  from  it  naturally  fall  into  two  groups. 
Especially  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  book  Thoreau  is  rather 
impudently  self-confident  and  ostentatiously  hostile  to  so- 
ciety. He  asserts  boldly,  often  peevishly,  sometimes  vin- 
dictively, a  large  number  of  negations  about  human  institu- 
tions and  mankind  in  general:  "Thank  God,  I  can  sit  and  I 
can  stand  without  the  aid  of  a  furniture  warehouse."  "Men 
say,  a  stitch  in  time  saves  nine,  so  they  take  a  thousand  stitches 
to-day  to  save  nine  to-morrow."  "Wherever  a  man  goes, 
men  will  pursue  him  and  paw  him  with  their  dirty  institu- 
tions, and,  if  they  can,  constrain  him  to  belong  to  their  des- 
perate odd-fellow  society."    He  is  not  merely  destructive, 


422  A  Group  of  Spiritual  Leaders 

however,  for  he  goes  on  to  tell  how  he  has  solved  the  prob- 
lems of  food,  clothing,  fire,  and  shelter — his  four  economic 
necessities;  and  having  presented  his  case,  he  urges  that  no 
one  follow  him  in  any  respect  except  that  of  finding  and  pur- 
suing his  own  way.  It  is  this  advice  which  saves  Thoreau 
from  a  seeming  inconsistency  when  in  conclusion  he  says: 
' '  I  left  the  woods  for  as  good  a  reason  as  I  went  there.  Per- 
haps it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  several  more  lives  to  live,  and 
could  not  spare  any  more  time  for  that  one." 

Thoreau's  Feeling  for  Nature. — Thoreau's  love  of  nature 
is  a  corollary  to  his  dislike  of  society.  He  feels  an  "intimate 
knowledge  and  delight"  in  all  the  changes  of  the  seasons  as 
they  show  themselves  in  plant  and  animal  life.  Walden 
Pond  in  both  summer  and  winter  is  a  sort  of  shrine  to  him. 
Nothing  about  it  is  too  minute  for  his  attention.  There  is 
a  wholesomeness  about  his  scientific  interest  in  growing 
things  which  serves  as  an  antidote  to  the  gushing  generalities 
of  sentimental  "nature  lovers."  He  had  the  keen  eye  of  a 
trained  observer  and  a  ready  pen  to  transcribe  what  he  saw. 
But  he  had  also  the  eye  and  pen  of  a  poet,  as  frequent  pas- 
sages attest.  These  may  be  mere  glimpses,  as  when  he  de- 
scribes the  pond  bottom  seen  below  the  ice,  where  "a  peren- 
nial waveless  serenity  reigns  as  in  the  amber  twilight  sky"; 
or  they  may  be  in  sustained  descriptions  or  anecdotes  such 
as  are  to  be  found  in  chapters  on  "The  Bean  Field,"  "The 
Ponds,"  "Brute  Neighbors,"  "Winter  Visitors,"  and 
"Spring." 

Thoreau  and  Emerson. — The  inevitable  comparison  with 
Emerson  reveals  two  things.  Thoreau  knew  far  more  about 
external  nature,  and  as  a  result  was  able  to  transmit  his  love 
of  it  to  many  whom  Emerson  failed  to  touch.  Walden  is  the 
first  great  contribution  to  the  modern  library  of  nature  liter- 
ature. No  one  but  John  Burroughs,  a  disciple  of  Thoreau, 
has  yet  rivalled  it.  In  his  attitude  toward  men  and  society, 
however,  Emerson  shows  his  wider  outlook  and  his  better 
balance.  Thoreau  is  often  saucy  where  Emerson  is  serene; 
Mercury  at  the  court  of  Jove.  The  older  man,  confident  in 
his  own  sincerity,  felt  "charity  towards  all";  the  younger 
was  often  irritated  and  querulous.    Emerson's  brilliant  epi- 


Henry  D.  Thoreau  423 

grams  are  too  frequently  offset  by  Thoreau's  conscious 
cleverness.  Yet  to  the  wider  public,  and  particularly  to  the 
inexperienced,  his  obviousness  and  his  impertinence — actual 
defects — are  attractively  refreshing,  and  a  reading  of  his 
pages  acts  as  a  sort  of  literacy  tonic. 

Alcott  and  the  Transcendental  Club. — These  were  but  two 
men  of  a  group  so  important  that  between  1835  and  1840 
they  were  dignified  as  the  "Transcendental  Club."  They 
met  informally  from  time  to  time,  and  without  programme 
held  discussions  in  philosophy  and  religion.  One  of  the 
most  celebrated  was  Amos  Bronson  Alcott,  a  strange  dreamer 
whose  life,  in  terms  of  practical  success,  was  a  chapter  of 
failures  at  peddling,  school-teaching,  and  lecturing.  His 
Orphic  Sayings  and  Concord  Days  are  little  read.  It  is 
hard  to  recall  more  than  the  ridiculous  anecdotes  of  which 
he  is  the  butt.  Yet  among  a  distinguished  circle  he  was 
held  in  such  high  regard  that  he  must  be  remembered,  like 
Dr.  Johnson,  more  for  his  friends  than  his  books. 

George  Ripley  and  Brook  Farm. — The  Reverend  George 
Ripley  was  another  Transcendentalist  whose  voluminous 
writings  have  gone  the  way  of  all  the  earth,  though  his  chief 
work,  as  organizer  of  the  Brook  Farm  Association,  holds  a 
place  for  him  in  literary  history.  This  "Institute  of  Agri- 
culture and  Education,"  established  on  a  Boston  suburban 
farm  in  1841,  was  designed  to  be  a  self-sufficient  community 
in  which  all  should  share  in  the  industrial  and  intellectual 
life.  For  six  years  Brook  Farm  was  a  centre  of  interest  to 
New  England  thinking  people  whether  they  disapproved, 
endorsed,  or  actually  promoted  the  enterprise;  but  when,  in 
1846,  the  new  and  still  uncompleted  main  building — the 
"phalanstery" — burned  down,  a  death-blow  was  dealt  to  the 
project,  and  not  long  after  the  Association  was  dissolved. 

Margaret  Fuller  and  "  The  Dial." — One  more  evidence  of 
the  strength  of  the  Transcendentalists  may  be  found  in  The 
Dial,  their  literary  organ,  established  under  the  editorship  of 
Margaret  Fuller.  For  four  years  it  appeared  as  a  quarterly, 
filled  with  essays  on  philosophy,  art,  music,  literature,  trans- 
lations from  the  Oriental  scriptures  and  from  the  German, 
and  much  good  verse.     Yet  in  spite  of  the  stalwart  support 


424  A  Group  of  Spiritual  Leaders 

of  Emerson,  Thoreau,  Lowell,  Ellery  Charming,  and  many 
others,  there  was  not  enough  demand  to  keep  it  alive  after 
1844.  It  was  joked  at  by  the  outer  world  and  more  or  less 
criticised  by  the  inner  circle,  some  of  whom  thought  it  too 
timid  and  others  too  bold.  To-day  we  look  on  it  as  an  inter- 
esting monument  to  the  enthusiasm  of  Emerson  and  his 
associates. 

III.  NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE    (1804-1864) 

Hawthorne's  Boyhood  and  College  Days. — Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne represents  in  many  ways  the  same  current  of  thought 
expounded  by  Emerson  and  Thoreau.  He  was  born  in  1804 
in  Salem,  Mass.,  and  after  the  death  of  his  father  at  sea 
while  the  son  was  still  a  little  boy,  lived  among  sober  sur- 
roundings that  must  have  affected  his  whole  later  life.  His 
mother  belonged  to  a  generation  which  made  it  a  practice  to 
surrender  to  prolonged  and  ostentatious  mourning  at  the  loss 
of  any  loved  one.  The  house  in  which  he  lived  was  thus 
overshadowed  by  grief,  and  he  grew  up  in  the  midst  of  a 
domestic  gloom  from  which  he  did  not  escape  at  all  until  he 
was  fourteen.  For  a  year  he  lived  the  normal  life  of  a  boy, 
out  of  doors  in  the  country  town  of  Raymond,  Me.  Then 
followed  three  more  years  in  Salem  before  he  went  to  Bow- 
doin  College. 

In  Bowdoin  he  was  a  classmate  of  Henry  Wadsworth  Long- 
fellow and  an  acquaintance  of  Franklin  Pierce,  later  a  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States.  His  friendships  were  cordial,  and 
he  seems  to  have  indulged  in  frivolities  now  and  then,  dis- 
tinct enough  even  to  incur  college  censure.  It  is  significant 
that  he  lost  his  commencement  appointment  on  the  ground 
of  his  refusal  to  appear  on  the  public  platform.  Yet  on  the 
whole,  he  appears  to  have  been  a  normal,  moderately  indus- 
trious, wide-awake  college  boy. 

The  Period  of  Waiting. — His  return  to  Salem,  however, 
brought  him  back  to  the  sombre  surroundings  of  his  boy- 
hood, and  in  the  midst  of  these  he  stayed  for  the  next  four- 
teen years,  from  1825  to  1839.  During  all  this  time  he  was  a 
lonely  figure  in  the  midst  of  his  home  town,  seldom  seeing  his 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE 


426  A  Group  of  Spiritual  Leaders 

neighbors  and  holding  little  intercourse  even  with  members 
of  his  own  family.  The  records  show  that  he  was  writing 
diligently  and  persistently,  and  his  journal  and  some  of  his 
shorter  published  stories  and  sketches  give  evidence,  not 
only  that  he  had  the  artistic  gift  at  the  time,  but,  further,  that 
he  was  very  definitely,  almost  systematically,  gathering  his 
strength  for  the  great  work  still  before  him.  Roughly,  he 
may  be  described  as  writing  anonymously  or  under  various 
noms  de  plume  for  Peter  Parley's  Tokens,  a  kind  of  annual 
publication  which  was  popular  in  his  day,  and  for  certain 
other  periodicals,  which  paid  little  enough  in  the  cases  where 
they  did  not  become  bankrupt  before  his  claims  were  settled. 
The  best  of  this  work  appeared  in  the  volume  Twice  Told 
Tales  in  1837.  His  emotions  and  his  non-success  are  elabo- 
rated in  1838  in  "The  Devil  in  Manuscript,"  and  in  a  notable 
letter  written  to  Longfellow,  in  both  of  which  he  shows  clearly 
how  hard  he  had  been  striving  to  get  away  from  himself  and 
into  the  world,  and  how  almost  impossible  his  long  habits  of 
solitude  had  made  this. 

Hawthorne  in  the  Community. — Nevertheless,  there  are 
three  attempts  recorded,  each  one  of  which  emphasizes  the 
character  of  the  man  as  he  appears  in  his  later  works.  The 
first  was  when,  for  two  years,  he  held  a  position  faithfully  and 
well  in  the  Boston  Custom-House.  At  the  outset  he  was 
overjoyed  to  become  a  real  member  of  the  community,  but 
as  the  months  went  on  his  comments  of  discontent  increased 
until  he  hailed  with  positive  joy  the  political  upheaval  which 
caused  him  to  lose  his  position.  His  next  attempt  to  get  into 
the  world  was  as  a  member  of  the  Brook  Farm  Association, 
of  which  he  was  one  of  the  original  stockholders.  The  ex- 
perience of  a  few  months  showed  that,  at  least  for  him,  this 
attempted  combination  of  the  intellectual  and  material  prob- 
lems of  life  was  not  a  success,  and  again  he  withdrew.  The 
third  was  when,  now  married  and  the  father  of  two  children, 
he  was  given  another  Federal  appointment,  this  time  as  head 
of  the  Custom-House  in  Salem,  a  task  which  proved  as  irk- 
some to  him  as  the  earlier  one  in  Boston. 

Hawthorne's  Final  Success. — When,  however,  political  in- 
triguing resulted  in  his  dismissal  from  this  post,  he  became 


Nathaniel  Hawthorne  427 

so  embittered  that  it  might  have  gone  hard  with  him  if  now, 
at  the  age  of  forty-six,  his  real  literary  career  had  not  begun. 
When  he  went  home  one  day  in  the  fall  of  1849  t0  ten"  ms  wife 
that  he  had  "left  his  official  head  behind  him,"  she  hailed 
the  occasion  as  an  opportunity  for  him  to  write  "his  book," 
and  the  book  appeared  as  a  result  of  her  cooperation  and  the 
kindly  encouragement  of  James  T.  Fields,  under  the  title  of 
The  Scarlet  Letter.  His  fame  was  now  achieved.  In  the 
next  year  appeared  The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables.  In  1852 
The  Blithedale  Romance,  and  finally,  after  seven  years  abroad 
in  the  consular  service — the  third  appointment  which  he 
owed  to  his  college  acquaintanceships — he  published  his  last 
great  work,  The  Marble  Faun. 

The  Central  Theme. — In  all  four  of  his  great  romances 
Hawthorne  definitely  dealt  with  that  conflict  between  the 
individual  and  the  group  which  his  own  experience  had 
illustrated.  One  the  one  hand  stands  the  individual,  sensi- 
tive, full  of  emotion,  keenly  alive  to  the  possible  joys  of  life, 
Instinctively  independent.  Whether  it  be  the  Hester  of  The 
Scarlet  Letter,  the  Hepzibah  and  Clifford  of  The  House  of 
the  Seven  Gables,  the  Zenobia  of  The  Blithedale  Romance,  the 
Donatello  or  the  Hilda  of  The  Marble  Faun,  this  character 
persists  in  all  of  the  stories,  and  in  all  of  them  recalls  to  mind 
something  of  Hawthorne's  own  experience.  In  opposition  to 
this  individual  stands  the  great  outer  world  embodied  in  the 
person  of  one  rough,  harsh,  unsympathetic  man. 

"  The  Scarlet  Letter." — In  The  Scarlet  Letter  the  opposing 
forces  are  Hester,  with  her  secret  lover,  Arthur  Dimmesdale, 
and  Roger  Chillingworth,  who  in  some  measure  stands  for 
the  world  at  large.  The  punishment  to  the  two  who  have 
sinned  is  imposed  on  them  by  the  machinery  of  the  law, 
brutal  in  process  and  ineffective  in  results.  Man's  social 
way  of  dealing  with  sin,  Hawthorne  seems  to  say,  fails  be- 
cause it  does  not  touch  the  soul;  and  Hester,  rising  above  the 
persecution  of  her  neighbors,  transforms  the  Scarlet  Letter, 
intended  as  a  symbol  of  her  disgrace,  "into  a  message  of 
mercy  to  all  who  suffer." 

"  The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables."— In  The  House  of  the 
Seven  Gables  the  two  branches  of  the  Pyncheon  family  carry 


428  A  Group  of  Spiritual  Leaders 

on  the  conflict.  Hepzibah  is  a  piece  of  faded  gentility  nurs- 
ing a  passionate  love  in  the  solitude  of  her  thwarted  life. 
Clifford,  unattractive  though  he  be  in  his  weak  sentimentality, 
is  nevertheless  a  touching  victim  of  society  whom  the  law 
has  mistaken  and  outraged  and  left  ruined.  Jaffrey  Pyn- 
cheon,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  incarnation  of  that  sort  of 
unscrupulous  shrewdness  which  is  able  to  make  its  way 
through  life  under  the  guise  of  complacent  respectability. 
There  is  no  doubt  about  Hawthorne's  sympathy  with  the 
weaker  characters,  or  his  indignant  contempt  for  the  opulent 
judge. 

"  The  Blithedale  Romance." — In  The  Blithedale  Romance \ 
again,  these  same  two  elements  appear.  The  sensitive  char- 
acter in  this  case  is  Zenobia,  who  is  set  apart  by  her  secret 
history  and  physical  nature;  and  the  embodiment  of  the  out- 
side world,  the  reformer  Hollingsworth,  who,  in  an  apparently 
good  cause  (the  elimination  of  certain  evils  in  society),  is  as 
harsh  and  unsympathetic  as  the  villains  in  The  Scarlet  Letter 
or  The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables.  He  is  selfish,  faithless 
to  his  associates,  and  willing  to  wreck  them  and  their  enter- 
prise because  it  stands  in  his  way  and  does  not  elicit  his 
sympathy.  The  Blithedale  Romance  is  an  Emersonian  pro- 
test against  that  type  of  man  who  loses  sight  of  the  good  of 
society  in  his  misdirected  enthusiasm  for  some  particular  and 
often  petty  reform. 

"  The  Marble  Faun." — After  The  Blithedale  Romance  Haw- 
thorne's first  great  burst  of  industry  seems  to  have  worn  itself 
away.  The  man  who,  for  forty-six  years,  had  achieved  only 
two  small  volumes  of  sketches  and  stories  had  in  barely  more 
than  two  years,  encouraged  by  the  late  but  sincere  applause 
of  the  outer  world,  put  out  three  times  as  much  as  in  all  his 
previous  career  and  written  in  this  number  three  of  his 
greatest  works.  At  this  point,  when  in  all  probability  his 
first  vein  was  worked  out,  his  old  classmate,  now  President 
Franklin  Pierce,  was  able  to  make  him  consul,  first  at  Liver- 
pool and  later  at  Rome.  More  than  seven  years  of  literary 
inactivity  followed,  in  all  of  which  time  Hawthorne  was  doing 
a  dignified  work  thoroughly,  well,  and  with  no  small  degree 
of  satisfaction  to  himself.     Daily  intercourse  with  foreigners 


Nathaniel  Hawthorne  429 

and  Americans  abroad  gave  him  a  better  acquaintance  with 
that  outer  world  which  he  had  long  and  vainly  yearned  to 
know.  In  i860  came  out  his  final  great  book.  If  one  were 
to  theorize  in  advance  about  it  the  chances  would  be  all  in 
favor  of  its  being  closer  to  life,  more  intimately  familiar  with 
the  ways  of  the  world,  and  more  genial  and  cosmopolitan  in 
tone  than  his  earlier  writings.  But  the  strange  fact  is  that 
The  Marble  Faun,  which  developed  out  of  his  experience  at 
Rome,  while  different  in  many  ways  from  his  first  two  ro- 
mances, and  while  in  one  sense  his  most  complete  expression 
of  life,  is,  nevertheless,  more  vague,  mysterious,  and  remote 
than  any  of  his  previous  works.  It  is  the  same  old  study  of 
the  individual  and  the  community.  But  where  he  had 
"formerly  set  forth  the  history  of  sin  in  the  heart,  taking  the 
evil  for  granted,  and  reflecting  upon  it  as  a  thing  given;  he 
now  looked  backward  and  is  engaged  with  the  genesis  of 
sin  in  a  natural  man,  the  coming  of  sin  into  the  world  of 
nature."  Donatello  plays  the  role  occupied  in  the  earlier 
stories  by  Zenobia  and  Hepzibah  and  Hester.  Innocent  and 
guileless  at  the  start  of  the  book,  he  is  relentlessly  drawn  into 
the  current  of  human  affairs,  until  finally,  stained  and  be- 
smirched through  his  intercourse  with  other  men,  he  becomes 
guilty  of  sin  and  aware  of  its  consequences.  Hawthorne 
attempted  to  account  for  the  presence  of  evil  in  human  life, 
and  his  conclusion  is  embodied  in  the  experience  of  Dona- 
tello, who  is  made  into  a  living  soul  as  the  result  of  his  crime. 
Hawthorne  as  a  Spiritual  Leader. — Throughout  his  works 
Hawthorne  thus  developed  a  philosophy  which  is  quite  his 
own,  yet  quite  in  harmony  with  the  prevailing  ideas  of  his 
day.  He  showed  a  high  and  abounding  respect  for  the 
dignity  of  the  individual  man,  and  a  conviction  that  each 
member  of  the  community  should  be  permitted  to  think  his 
own  thoughts  and  live  his  own  life.  In  contrast  to  his  con- 
temporaries in  the  field  of  fiction,  Dickens  or  Reade  or 
Kingsley  or  even  Trollope,  Hawthorne  displayed  little  in- 
terest in  the  handling  of  concrete  social  problems.  The 
Present  of  Hawthorne  is  a  picturesque  background;  the 
church,  even  in  depraved  form,  furnishes  him  simply  with 
an  occasion  for  a  suggestive  revery.    The  approach  of  the 


430  A  Group  of  Spiritual  Leaders 

Civil  War  does  not  overshadow  the  pages  of  his  fiction.  With 
the  concrete  social  reformer  Hawthorne  had  nothing  in  com- 
mon. Moreover,  he  is  almost  equally  far  away,  although  in 
a  different  fashion,  from  Thackeray  and  George  Eliot  and 
Meredith.  Read  his  pages  as  you  will,  you  will  find  little  in 
the  way  of  definite  advice  to  individuals  as  to  how  to  act 
under  any  given  set  of  conditions.  Hawthorne  was  a  spir- 
itual leader;  to  provoke  action  was  not  his  task;  but  deeply 
conscious  that  the  majority  of  people  fail  to  think  for  them- 
selves and  fail  to  sympathize  with  those  who  do,  Hawthorne 
attempted  to  lead  people  into  a  wider  and  more  satisfied 
spiritual  life.  So,  like  Thoreau,  Hawthorne  looked  upon 
society  from  his  own  point  of  view,  and  pleaded  for  indi- 
vidual freedom  and  individual  courage.  So,  like  Emerson, 
he  recognized 'the  double  problem  of  living  true  to  himself 
and  performing  his  part  in  the  midst  of  the  social  group. 
But  to  a  greater  extent  than  either  of  them,  he  had  the  artistic 
gift  which  made  it  possible  for  him  to  put  into  almost  perfect 
literary  form  the  essays,  sketches,  and  stories  which  were 
the  expressions  of  his  deepest  life. 


REVIEW  OUTLINE.— Summarize  the  reasons  for  the  failure  of  any 
permanent  schools  of  literature  founded -on  the  work  of  Irving,  Cooper, 
and  Bryant. 

Define  Transcendentalism.  In  what  way  was  this  philosophy  evi- 
dently a  reaction  against  the  eighteenth-century  habits  of  thought  as 
developed  by  Benjamin  Franklin  in  America  ?  To  what  Englishman 
did  Franklin  correspond  in  his  point  of  view?  Give  reasons  for  the 
fertility  of  New  England  soil  for  the  sowing  of  such  philosophy.  What 
are  the  three  fundamental  elements  in  life  in  which  the  Transcendental- 
ists  believed ?    What  is  the  relation  between  the  three? 

Give  the  chief  facts  in  Emerson's  career  up  to  his  return  from  his 
trip  abroad.  What  were  his  three  notable  essays  in  1836-1837  and  1838 
and  what  was  the  common  element  in  them  all  ?  Cite  the  passage  in 
which  Emerson  reconciles  his  desire  for  solitude  and  his  need  of  society. 
In  what  respect  was  the  New  England  Lyceum  through  which  Emer- 
son addressed  the  public  a  notable  institution  in  his  day?  In  what  lay 
his  chief  influence  as  a  lecturer? 


Reading  Guide  431 

Thoreau  was  a  disciple  and  follower  of  Emerson  and  yet  was  too 
individual  to  be  a  copy.  In  what  respect  did  he  differ  in  his  attitude 
toward  the  life  of  the  community?  In  what  respect  did  he  surpass 
Emerson  in  his  feeling  for  and  knowledge  of  nature? 

What  were  some  of  the  organized  ways  in  which  the  Transcendental 
group  gave  evidence  of  their  earnestness?  Mention  the  relation  of 
Amos  Bronson  Alcott  to  one  of  them,  of  George  Ripley  to  another,  and 
of  Margaret  Fuller  to  a  third. 

Mention  the  experiences  of  Hawthorne's  boyhood,  college  days,  and 
subsequent  years  after  his  return  to  Salem.  What  negative  fact  in  his 
life  did  he  first  record  and  then  struggle  against?  Mention  his  three 
successive  attempts  to  overcome  what  he  felt  to  be  a  defect  in  himself 
as  a  citizen.  What  fundamental  fact  in  his  previous  experience  ap- 
pears in  his  great  romances?  Mention  the  first  three  of  these  in  turn 
with  brief  analyses.  What  in  general  was  the  effect  throughout  his  life 
of  certain  of  the  friendships  which  he  made  in  college?  What  was  the 
effect  of  these  upon  his  life  abroad  from  1853  to  1860?  What  is  there 
notable  in  the  fact  that  his  last  great  romance  was  not  markedly  dif- 
ferent in  fact  and  experience  from  those  written  before  his  years  in 
Liverpool  and  Rome?  In  what  respect  is  Hawthorne  comparable 
with  Emerson  and  Thoreau  in  their  attitude  toward  individual  free- 
dom, and  in  their  attitude  toward  organized  reform  ? 


READING  GUIDE. — Readings  from  Emerson  should  include  first 
of  all  "Nature,"  "  The  American  Scholar,"  "The  Divinity  School  Ad- 
dress," and  "Society  and  Solitude."  These  may  be  supplemented  by 
"Compensation,"  "Self-Reliance,"  "Friendship,"  and  "Character," 
and  by  the  following  poems:  "The  River,"  "Written  at  Naples," 
"Written  at  Rome,"  "The  Problem,"  "Fable,"  "Hamatreya,"  "Brah- 
ma." The  best  short  biographies  are  E.  W.  Emerson's  "Emerson  in 
Concord"  and  George  E.  Woodberry's  (English  Men  of  Letters  series). 
Among  the  good  critical  passages  are  C.  F.  Richardson's  "American 
Literature,"  I,  IX  and  II,  V;  E.  C.  Stedman's  "Poets  of  America"; 
Whitman's  "Specimen  Days,"  April  16,  1881. 

Readings  from  Thoreau  should  include  the  first  fourth  of  "Walden," 
together  with  a  few  of  the  essays  which  make  up  the  rest  of  the  book. 

Readings  from  Hawthorne  should  include  from  "Twice  Told  Tales," 
"The  Great  Carbuncle,"  "The  Snow  Image,"   "The  Great  Stone 


432  A  Group  of  Spiritual  Leaders 

Face  ";  from  the  four  long  romances,  "The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables." 
The  best  short  biography  is  by  George  E.  Woodberry  (American  Men 
of  Letters  series).  Other,  good  studies  from  his  life  are  Rose  Haw- 
thorne Lathrop's  "Memories  of  Hawthorne"  and  Bridge's  "Recollec- 
tions of  Hawthorne." 

For  a  study  of  the  Concord  group  in  general,  the  best  books  are 
O.  B.  Frothingham's  "Transcendentalism  in  New  England,"  H.  C. 
Goddard's  "Studies  in  New  England  Transcendentalism,"  and  Lindsey 
Swift's  "Brook  Farm."  Lowell's  essays  on  " Thoreau  "  and  on  "  Emer- 
son the  Lecturer  "  are  sympathetic  and  interesting. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  POPULAR  SPOKESMEN  OF  THE  MID-CENTURY 

I.   INTRODUCTION 

The  Prophet  versus  The  Spokesman. — As  between  the  poet 
philosophers,  often  called  the  Concord  group,  and  the  popular 
spokesmen  who  centred  more  about  Boston  and  Cambridge, 
there  are  certain  points  of  clear  contrast.  The  former  con- 
cerned themselves  almost  exclusively  with  the  nature  and 
improvement  of  the  individual;  the  latter  were  laboring  with 
the  nation  as  a  whole,  and  attempting  to  uplift  or  reform  its 
institutions.  The  New  England  prophets  cried  down  ex- 
isting evils  and  pointed  to  their  certain  consequences;  the 
spokesmen  looked  for  causes  and  did  their  best  to  remove 
them.  A  further  distinction  can  be  made  with  reference  to 
the  contrasted  form  of  their  messages.  It  is  not  the  function 
of  the  prophet  to  please:  his  message  is  disturbing  and  almost 
certain  to  be  unpopular.  His  cause  is  desperate,  and  his 
audience,  if  they  listen  at  all,  will  listen  only  under  protest. 
The  prophet,  therefore,  speaks  with  high  seriousness,  and  em- 
bellishes his  discourse  with  parable  and  suggestive  allusion. 
He  challenges  attention;  he  stimulates  thought,  and  leaves 
his  readers  or  his  hearers  to  their  own  best  devices,  not  applying 
the  moral  of  what  he  has  said  or  written.  But  the  spokes- 
man has  a  different  task.  He  is  attempting  to  move  men  to 
immediate  action.  He  must  be  heard,  he  must  be  under- 
stood, and  that  at  once.  His  work,  therefore,  has  certain 
characteristics  that  appeal  to  the  popular  mind.  In  form  it 
is  symmetrical  and  familiar;  in  content  easy  to  understand 
at  a  glance;  the  narrative  scheme  is  frequently  used,  and  in 
most  cases  the  moral  is  definitely  applied. 

433 


434     Popular  Spokesmen  of  the  Mid-century 


II.   JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER    (1807-1892) 

Whittier  a  Practical  Man.— The  life  of  Whittier,  like  that 
of  several  others  of  the  New  England  group,  practically 
spanned  the  century.  He  was  as  near  to  the  war  of  the 
Revolution  in'  childhood  as  are  the  present  generation  of 
college  students  to  the  war  of  the  Rebellion.  He  died  while 
this  same  group  of  college  students  were  in  their  kinder- 
garten days.  The  briefest  study  of  Whittier's  life  to  one 
hitherto  unacquainted  with  him  is  usually  attended  with  a 
distinct  experience  of  surprise.  His  picture,  as  it  is  com- 
monly published,  is  that  of  a  genial,  gray-haired,  elderly 
man,  with  a  far-away  expression  and  an  almost  deprecating 
poise  of  the  head  and  turn  of  the  lip.  If  he  had  been  the 
poet  simply  of  "Snow-Bound"  and  "The  Barefoot  Boy,"  we 
should  feel  that  his  look  expounded  his  life,  and  satisfy  our- 
selves by  summing  him  up  as  a  complacently  contemplative 
Quaker,  whose  whole  career  was  passed  in  placid  rumination. 
But  this  was  a  part  and  only  a  lesser  part  of  Whittier's  ac- 
tivity.   For  he  was  a  most  eminently  practical  man. 

Whittier's  Education. — He  was  born  of  parents  who  lived 
respectably  but  perforce  with  such  economy  that  they  were 
not  able  to  give  their  son  a  liberal  schooling.  Hence,  in  ad- 
dition to  his  farm  work,  he  learned  to  make  shoes,  and  with 
his  extra  earnings  gathered  together  a  sum  sufficient  to  carry 
him  through  six  months  at  Haverhill  Academy.  The  money 
for  further  education  he  earned  by  dispensing  in  district- 
school  teaching  the  scanty  knowledge  that  he  had  already 
gathered.  From  this  he  drifted  into  a  kind  of  journalism, 
writing  for  The  Boston  Philanthropist  and  The  Haverhill 
Gazette,  and  actually  doing  editorial  work  on  The  New  Eng- 
land Review  of  Hartford.  Thus  early,  by  knocking  about 
among  people  in  town  and  country,  and  acquainting  himself 
with  men  of  all  sorts  of  professions  and  prejudices,  he  pre- 
pared himself  for  a  life  of  intellectual  activity. 

Whittier  and  the  Abolition  Movement. — In  the  course  of 
his  youthful  experience  he  had  become  acquainted  with 
William  Lloyd  Garrison,  and  largely  through  his  influence 


John  Greenleaf  Whittier  435 

he  became  more  and  more  closely  connected  with  the  anti- 
slavery  movement.  He  believed  that  the  way  to  achieve  re- 
form was  through  legislation,  and  that  political  pressure 
could  best  be  exerted  through  swaying  public  opinion.  His 
convictions  were  strong;  they  were  not  unusual;  but  he  was 
better  able  to  express  them  than  the  majority,  and  through 
all  the  long  years  which  preceded  the  war,  and  until  its  con- 
clusion in  1865,  he  wrote  from  time  to  time  spirited  popular 
verses  which  carried  thousands  of  readers  with  them.  Five 
of  these  bits  of  verse  may  be  cited  to  show  the  history  of  his 
relation  to  the  abolition  movement.  First,  "  Expostulation," 
written  in  1834;  then  "Massachusetts  to  Virginia,"  a  clear 
protest  against  the  enforcement  of  the  fugitive  slave  law  with 
reference  to  the  case  of  Anthony  Burns.  Next,  in  "Icha- 
bod,"  Whittier  was  the  voice  of  the  North  speaking  with 
hasty  indignation  at  Webster's  famous  Seventh  of  March 
speech  (1851),  in  which  he  seemed  to  have  sold  his  loyalty  to 
the  North  for  the  sake  of  strengthening  his  political  future. 
Next,  "Barbara  Frietchie,"  a  typical  war-ballad,  no  better 
and  no  worse  than  many  others.  Last,  that  fine  outburst  of 
reverent  praise,  "Laus  Deo,"  at  the  close  of  the  war. 

Whittier's  Poems  of  New  England. — At  the  same  time  that 
Whittier  was  writing  in  this  vein,  he  was  using  his  poetical 
powers  even  more  ably  in  terms  of  many  poems  about  New 
England  life.  They  may  roughly  be  classified  as  verses  on 
the  early  history  of  New  England,  and  poems  on  his  own 
times.  He  loved  to  look  back  to  the  lives  and  achievements 
of  his  ancestors,  and  when  he  found  incidents  in  history  which 
combined  picturesqueness  of  quality  with  that  sturdiness  of 
moral  character  with  which  the  old  settlers  were  blessed,  he 
delighted,  in  such  poems  as  "Abraham  Davenport,"  "Cas- 
sandra Southwick,"  "The  Wreck  of  Rivermouth,"  "The 
Garrison  of  Cape  Ann,"  and  "Skipper  Ireson's  Ride,"  to 
pay  his  tribute  to  them.  In  all  these  appear  the  sources  of 
poetic  popularity  always  to  be  found  in  favorite  poems.  These 
are  short,  clear  stories  couched  in  simple  language  and  in 
more  or  less  conventional  verse,  and  capped  with  a  moral 
which  would  be  evident  enough  even  if  it  were  not  printed  in 
black  on  white. 


436     Popular  Spokesmen  of  the  Mid-century 

Whittier's  greatest  poem,  "Snow-Bound,"  falls  in  the  re- 
maining group — his  poems  of  contemporary  New  England. 
It  could  stand  alone  out  of  all  his  poems  as  earning  for  the 
poet  a  permanent  place  in  letters.  With  satisfaction  and 
sympathy  it  upholds  the  noble  and  simple  life  of  the  peasant 
class.  It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  it  deserves  to'  be 
ranked  with  Gray's  "Elegy,"  Goldsmith's  "Deserted  Vil- 
lage," and  Burns's  "Cotter's  Saturday  Night." 

Whittier's  "  Puritan  Pluck." — It  has  become  a  habit  for 
the  present  generation,  as  it^moves  daily  farther  from  the 
fixed  traditions  of  early  New  England  days,  to  think  and 
speak  of  the  old-time  Puritans  in  a  rather  patronizing  tone. 
It  is  the  fashion  to  refer  with  impatience  to  what  we  term 
their  antipathy  to  art,  to  speak  superciliously  of  their  austere 
manners  and  customs,  and  to  flout  as  Puritan  relics  the  sur- 
vival of  any  traditions  which  are  more  than  ordinarily  con- 
servative. It  is  well  to  remember  that  the  "Puritan  prin- 
ciple," though  perhaps  confined  in  its  course  to  a  path  which 
to-day  seems  narrow,  was  coupled  with  indomitable  "Puri- 
tan pluck."  It  is  this  combination  which  demands  respect 
in  the  person  of  the  Quaker-Puritan  John  Greenleaf  Whittier. 
We  recognize  the  truth  of  his  self-criticism.  He  could  not 
emulate 

"the  old  melodious  lays — 
The  songs  of  Spenser's  golden  days." 

There  does  often  appear  in  his  verses 

"The  rigor  of  a  frozen  clime. 


The  jarring  words  of  one  whose  rhyme  v 

Beat  often  Labor's  hurried  time, 
Or  Duty's  rugged  march  through  storm  and  strife." 

But  in  the  support  of  that  noble  and  long  unpopular 
cause  to  which  he  devoted  himself,  we  recognize  a  cou- 
rageous consecration  as  great  as  that  of  the  martyrs  of  Lex- 
ington and  Concord.  Overcome  with  bodily  weakness  which 
compelled  him  to  withdraw  from  the  swift  currents  of  active 
life,  in  his  own  way  he  accomplished  more  than  many  who 


James  Russell  Lowell  437 

were  in  the  thick  of  that  conflict.    Rightly  he  cried  out  in 
his  agony  that  God  should  ''make  the  balance  good." 

Oh  power  to  do!     Oh  baffled  will! 

Oh  prayer  and  action!     Ye  are  one. 
Who  may  not  strive  may  yet  fulfil 
The  harder  task  of  standing  still 

And  good  but  wished  with  God  is  done. 

Then  when  it  was  given  him  to  rejoice  at  the  end  of  the 
conflict,  and  to  live  on  to  a  noble  old  age,  he  was  able  in  his 
"simple  lays  of  homely  toil"  to  show,  as  only  a  few  poets 
have  done,  "The  unsung  beauty  hid  life's  common  things 
below."  Whittier,  in  his  best  work,  was  a  frankly  "pro- 
vincial" poet,  and  in  this  fact  is  the  source  of  his  strength. 
He  loved  the  past  and  the  present  of  his  own  people  and  the 
country  that  they  lived  in,  no  less  than  did  Burns  and 
Wordsworth. 


III.    JAMES   RUSSELL  LOWELL    (1819-1891) 

Lowell's  Early  Surroundings. — In  James  Russell  Lowell 
the  student  finds  the  same  practical  qualities  which  belong  to 
Whittier,  the  same  inclination  to  think  about  the  problems 
of  the  day,  and  the  same  ability  to  express  himself  on  ques- 
tions of  the  hour.  Lowell  seems,  however,  to  have  been 
drawn  into  active  life  in  spite  of  his  expressed  and  strongly 
recurring  desire  to  devote  himself  to  art.  No  one  could  have 
been  brought  up  among  more  genuinely  literary  circum- 
stances than  was  he.  His  early  home  was  in  a  dignified  old 
mansion  in  Cambridge,  within  sight  of  the  Charles,  sur- 
rounded by  magnificent  trees,  the  visible  reminders  of  those 
rich  memories  which  clustered  about  the  estate.  Born  of 
cultured  parents,  accustomed  from  youth  to  their  conversation 
and  that  of  their  friends,  and  given  almost  from  babyhood 
to  priceless  hours  in  the  large  and  well-appointed  family 
library,  he  enjoyed  an  education  which  was  calculated  to 
endow  him  with  a  love  for  letters. 

Lowell's  Early  Manhood. — In  college  he  took  his  own  time 
and  picked  his  own  path,  achieving  results  hardly  more 


438    Popular  Spokesmen  of  the  Mid-century 

notable  than  those  of  Emerson,  and  so  conducting  himself 
during  the  later  months  of  his  course  that  the  university 
authorities  were  compelled  to  "rusticate"  him  for  some 
weeks.  During  the  years  that  immediately  followed  gradua- 
tion, Lowell  was  uneasily  seeking  his  as  yet  not  chosen  field. 
He  enrolled  himself  in  the  distinguished  army  of  literary  men 
who  signally  failed  at  law.  He  restlessly  surveyed  the  motley 
procession  whom  he  passed  in  his  daily  walks.  It  was  fort- 
unate at  this  time  that  he  fell  in  with  a  group  of  eager,  con- 
genial, and  thoughtful  companions  of  his  own  generation, 
who  centred  about  him  and  drew  out  the  best  that  was  in 
him.  One  of  these,  Maria  White,  subsequently  became  his 
wife. 

For  a  short  while  they  endured  the  hardship  of  early  matri- 
monial rigid  economy  until  her  father  left  them  money  and  his 
provided  them  with  a  roof.  Then  in  the  years  that  immediately 
followed,  culminating  when  Lowell  was  only  twenty-six,  he 
established  himself  as  one  of  the  popular  spokesmen  of 
America.  He  had  passed  through  that  period  in  which  his 
main  attempt  was  to  dedicate  himself  to  the  expression  of 
beauty.  Aroused  by  the  restlessness  of  the  age,  he  looked 
about  him  in  the  social  world,  and  in  the  stirring  lines  of  the 
"Present  Crisis"  showed  the  vigorous  moral  sense  which 
was  to  find  utterance  in  a  succession  of  poems  extending  over 
more  than  twenty  years. 

By  1848  he  had  come  to  his  most  productive  year,  pub- 
lishing some  two-score  articles  and  poems  in  magazines  and 
papers,  and  four  volumes.  In  these  volumes  are  expressed 
all  sides  of  the  character  of  Lowell  that  men  remember.  In 
the  "Vision  of  Sir  Launfal"  he  showed  his  literary  up- 
bringing, his  love  of  beauty,  and  at  the  same  time  his  strong 
moral  bent.  Verses  which  share  honors  with  this  poem,  the 
"Biglow  Papers,"  show  his  effort  to  influence  public  opinion 
by  any  effective  legitimate  means.  The  first  of  the  two  series 
came  out  in  protest  against  the  Mexican  War,  at  the  time 
when  President  Polk  called  for  50,000  volunteers,  asking 
Massachusetts  for  777  men.  The  papers  were  written  in  the 
Yankee  dialect,  a  homely  dress  well  calculated  to  set  off  their 
whimsical  seriousness.     They  were  the  pretended  product 


James  Russell  Lowell  439 

of  Hosea  Biglow,  whose  father,  in  the  introduction  (written 
in  the  same  style),  comments  on  him  as  follows:  "Hosy  he 
cum  down  stares  full  chizzle,  hare  on  eend  and  cote  tales 
flyin,  and  sot  rite  of  to  go  reed  his  varses  to  Parson  Wilbur 
bein  he  haint  aney  grate  shows  o'  book  larnin  himself,  bimeby 
he  cum  back  and  sed  the  parson  wuz  dreffle  tickled  with  'em 
as  i  hoop  you  will  Be,  and  said  they  wuz  True  grit."  So  suc- 
cessful were  these  papers  that  a  dozen  years  later,  upon  the 
outbreak  of  the  war,  a  second  series  connected  with  the  stir- 
ring events  from  i860  to  1865  met  with  renewed  and  even  in- 
creased popularity. 

Lowell  as  Teacher  and  Diplomat. — To  return,  however,  to 
1848,  the  struggle  in  his  nature  was  still  going  on,  for  soon 
after  he  writes  to  a  friend:  "Now  I  am  going  to  try  more 
wholly  after  beauty  herself.  Next,  if  I  live,  I  shall  try  repre- 
senting life  as  I  find  it.  I  find  that  reform  cannot  take  up 
the  whole  of  me."  Yet  in  1854  a  new  and  dominant  activity 
for  a  while  took  up  the  whole  of  him.  For  in  that  year  he 
was  called  to  Harvard  to  become  the  Smith  Professor  of 
modern  languages  and  literature,  occupying  that  distin- 
guished chair  which  had  been  held  before  him  by  George 
Ticknor  and  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow,  and  which,  after 
his  death  in  1891,  remained  empty  until  almost  the  present 
day. 

Now  are  the  three  sides  of  his  life  developed — the  apostle 
of  the  beautiful,  the  reformer,  the  teacher.  To  the  end  of 
his  life  he  continued  his  activity  in  all  three  directions.  And 
yet,  long  before  the  end  of  it,  he  was  drawn  out  of  the 
seclusion  of  the  college  yards  and  classrooms  into  the  active 
service  of  his  country,  this  time  as  a  diplomat.  In  1877  he 
was  appointed  as  Minister  to  Spain,  and  was  welcomed  cord- 
ially there  by  those  who  could  still  remember  the  residence 
of  Washington  Irving  in  similar  capacity  many  years  earlier. 
In  1880  he  was  transferred  to  England,  the  most  important 
of  all  our  foreign  posts.  Here  he  did  his  work  vigorously  and 
effectively,  and  yet  with  such  self-control  and  tact  that  he  was 
described  as  ' '  the  most  invited  and  the  most  inviting  man  in 
London,"  and  credited  as  having  found  the  Englishmen 
strangers  but  having  "left  them  all  cousins." 


440     Popular  Spokesmen  of  the  Mid-century 

Lowell's  Versatility. — In  the  roster  of  American  men  of 
letters,  Lowell  has  earned  the  distinction  of  being  the  most 
talented  and  the  most  completely  rounded  of  them  all.  His 
work  in  education  and  in  the  representation  of  his  countiy 
abroad  must,  in  such  a  history  as  this,  be  considered  secondary 
to  his  achievements  in  literature;  yet  in  letters  alone  his  work 
is  varied  and  variously  successful.  His  poems  of  affairs 
seldom  failed  to  meet  a  genuine  response  among  the  great 
body  of  American  readers.  His  lyric  poems  were  simple, 
sincere,  and  affecting,  and  in  prose  his  letters,  as  edited  by 
his  friend  and  colleague,  Charles  Eliot  Norton,  are  abounding 
in  interest,  while  his  literary  essays  are  as  substantial  and 
discriminating  as  anything  of  their  kind  yet  produced  in  this 
country. 

IV.    OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES    (1809-1894) 

Holmes's  Uneventful  Career. — Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  may 
be  said  to  be  the  last  of  the  foremost  New  England  writers 
who  wielded  a  contemporary  influence,  or  even  wished  to 
wield  one.  Like  the  great  majority  of  the  men  of  letters 
with  whom  we  instinctively  associate  him,  he  was  born  almost 
within  the  shadow  of  the  Massachusetts  State  House  and  was 
launched  on  the  world  a  Harvard  graduate.  The  story  of 
his  career  is  remarkably  uneventful.  After  some  study  of 
medicine  abroad  and  a  short  period  of  medical  practice  in 
Boston,  he  occupied  a  chair  at  Dartmouth  College  for  a  year, 
after  which  he  returned  to  "the  Hub  "  for  the  rest  of  his  life, 
holding  incidentally  the  Parkman  Professorship  of  Anatomy 
at  Harvard  from  1847  to  1888.  This  long  tenure  of  office 
was  a  natural  expression  of  Mr.  Holmes's  character,  which 
notably  combined  vigor  and  stability.  His  loyalty  did  not 
impel  him  during  the  war  to  go  to  the  front,  and  yet  he  was  a 
sincere  patriot.  His  interest  in  men  and  things  did  not  draw 
him  into  long  sojourns  in  Europe  in  search  of  recreation  or 
learning.  His  zeal  for  reform  did  not  bring  him  into  the 
movement  which  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  run  up  and 
down  the  land.  Yet  in  the  midst  of  one  of  our  greatest  and 
oldest  cities  and  in  a  circle  of  distinguished  friends,  the  like  of 


Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  441 

whom  America  will  not  see  again  for  generations,  he  not  only 
held  his  own,  but  more  often  than  not  he  made  himself  the 
central  figure. 

Holmes's  Lighter  Satires. — The  reason  for  this  lies  in  his 
combination  of  fine  common-sense  and  spontaneous  humor, 
the  one  leading  him  to  seek  the  best  in  the  circumstances 
1  among  which  he  was  placed,  and  the  other  helping  him  to 
interpret  what  he  saw  in  a  new  and  fresh  and  vivid  way. 
Throughout  his  career  his  rationalism  was  evident  in  all  he 
wrote  and  said.  He  was,  on  the  whole,  too  keen  to  be  senti- 
mental, too  observant  to  be  deluded  by  meaningless  doctrines, 
too  individual  to  accede  to  any  habitual  line  of  conduct  which 
did  not  commend  itself  to  his  judgment,  and,  withal,  as  a 
moral  agent  he  was  gifted  with  a  genuine  power  of  satire 
which  made  much  of  what  he  said  widely  influential  as  well 
as  very  amusing.  Thus  in  his  "Ballad  of  the  Oysterman" 
he  not  only  wrote  an  exceedingly  silly  bit  of  verse,  but  by 
writing  it  in  the  fashion  of  much  popular  verse  of  his  day  he 
turned  it  all  to  ridicule.  So  in  the  "Lines  to  His  Aunt,"  his 
"dear,  unmarried  aunt,"  he  was  expressing  the  keenest  of 
criticism  upon  the  still  popular,  although  improved,  finishing 
school.  Again,  in  "Contentment,"  he  made,  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  luxury  lover,  a  statement  on  the  simple  life 
which  has  as  much  truth  in  it  from  the  metropolitan  point  of 
view  as  Thoreau's  Walden  has  from  that  of  the  nature  lover. 

Holmes's  "  Occasional  "  Verse. — As  a  writer  of  occasional 
verse  he  was  the  indefatigable  poet-laureate  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. It  was  more  the  fashion  forty  years  ago  in  Boston 
than  it  is  in  our  own  hurried  day  to  celebrate  events  of  minor 
interest.  So  year  after  year,  when  his  own  class  reunited  at 
the  Harvard  commencement,  he  versified  for  them.  For  the 
annual  meetings  of  the  Harvard  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  he 
wrote  more  verses.  When  his  friends  left  for  Europe  he  sped 
the  parting  guests  and  in  happy  verse  he  welcomed  them  on 
their  return.  No  poet  of  any  celebrity  could  pass  a  birthday 
in  his  region  without  running  the  risk  of  a  commemorative 
tribute  from  Holmes. 

The  Prose  Essays. — If  it  were  only  for  his  verse,  however 
the  place  of  Holmes  in  our  literature  would  be  but  a  slight 


442    Popular  Spokesmen  of  the  Mid-century 

one.  He  had  the  rather  remarkable  experience  of  turning, 
at  the  age  of  forty-eight,  to  a  new  form  of  expression  and  of 
continuing  to  use  it  successfully  for  over  thirty  years  of  the 
remainder  of  his  long  life.  In  1857,  when  the  Atlantic 
Monthly  was  founded,  James  Russell  Lowell,  upon  assuming 
the  editorship,  stipulated  as  one  of  his  conditions  that  Mr. 
Holmes  should  be  secured  as  a  regular  contributor.  Through 
the  columns  of  the  Atlantic  there  followed  as  a  result  the 
oracular  utterances  first  of  The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast- 
Table,  then,  two  years  later,  of  The  Professor  at  the  Breakfast- 
Table,  then,  in  1873,  of  The  Poet  at  the  Breakfast-Table,  and 
finally,  in  1890,  of  the  old  philosopher  as  he  talked  charm- 
ingly and  genially  Over  the  Tea-Cups.  If  these  four  books 
had  been  produced  among  people  who  had  less  to  read, 
their  popularity  would  have  been  even  greater  than  it  is 
now.  We  may  compare  them  with  The  Spectator,  with 
Goldsmith's  Citizen  of  the  World,  with  Johnson's  Rambler, 
with  Irving's  Salmagundi  Papers,  and  find  in  them  the  same 
critical  sense  and  the  same  pleasant  humor.  They  touch 
less  than  these  other  papers  upon  all  sorts  of  subjects  in 
connection  with  the  externals  of  human  life.  They  deal  with 
real  matters  of  conduct,  but  avoid  subjects  so  profound  as 
to  confuse  the  ordinary  reader.  As  a  consequence,  for 
thirty-three  years  they  made  their  author  at  different  times 
the  public  mentor  of  the  community,  counselling,  warning, 
rebuking,  deprecating,  or  even  ridiculing,  as  the  situation 
demanded.  Holmes  was  not,  as  he  is  sometimes  said  to 
be,  a  merely  accomplished  dabbler  in  letters.  Like  the  men 
about  him,  he  felt  the  impulse  to  search  for  the  truth  and  re- 
port it,  and  much  of  what  the  Autocrat  and  the  Professor 
and  the  Poet  said  at  the  break  fast- table  or  over  the  tea- 
cups was  distinctly  in  advance  of  his  time. 

V.   HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW   (1807-1882) 

The  Popularity  of  Longfellow. — Though  Longfellow  was 
an  almost  exact  contemporary  of  the  popular  spokesmen 
just  discussed,  his  interests  were  not  identical  with  theirs, 
nor  may  he  be  classified  with  Emerson  and  the  Concord 


Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  443 

group.  Yet  if  he  does  not  deserve  the  title  "Spokesman," 
there  is  no  American  poet  who  has  so  widely  earned  the  right 
to  be  called  popular.  Examination  of  the  catalogues  of  the 
British  Museum  shows  that  in  numbers  of  titles  of  works, 
editions,  and  articles  by  and  about  Longfellow  he  stands  in 
the  whole  roster  of  nineteenth-century  poets  second  only  to 
Tennyson,  and  far  in.  advance  of  his  next  rival.  His  works, 
in  more  than  a  hundred  editions,  have  been  translated  into 
eighteen  languages.  They  can  be  found  in  the  book-stores 
of  almost  any  English-speaking  city,  so  constant  is  the  de- 
mand for  them;  and  in  books  of  selections  his  poems  are 
printed  in  such  numbers  as  to  indicate  that  editors  and  the 
reading  public  alike  recognize  the  demand  for  his  best-known 
verses. 

Longfellow's  Education. — He  was  born  on  February  27, 
1807,  of  distinguished  New  England  parentage,  in  Portland, 
Me.  As  his  father  was  a  trustee  of  Bowdoin  College, 
Longfellow  was  sent  there  rather  than  to  Harvard.  Entering 
the  class  of  1825,  as  a  sophomore,  he  became  a  classmate  of 
Hawthorne.  His  career  as  a  student  was  a  little  more  promis- 
ing than  that  of  the  novelist,  for  he  was  graduated  third  in  his 
class,  showing  an  ability  to  subject  himself  to  routine  work 
in  spite  of  his  appetite  for  miscellaneous  reading.  Before  he 
had  left  the  college  campus  the  two  chief  features  of  his  sub- 
sequent work  as  a  poet  had  both  been  foreshadowed.  One 
of  these  came  in  the  shape  of  his  commencement  oration, 
which\was  upon  the  subject  "Our  Native  Writers."  For 
himself,  he  declares  his  purpose  to  speak  as  an  American  for 
America,  and  the  utterance  is  interesting  as  compared  with 
similar  early  declarations  by  Trumbull,  Freneau,  Bryant, 
and  Whittier.  The  other  promise  for  the  future  came  in  his 
skill  as  a  student  of  the  languages,  which  was  so  great  that  at 
the  age  of  nineteen,  when  the  trustees  of  Bowdoin  had  de- 
cided to  establish  a  chair  of  modern  languages,  Longfellow 
was  offered  the  position. 

Longfellow's  Two  Lines  of  Interest. — To  the  acquisition  of 
scholarship,  then,  and  to  training  for  authorship  he  set  him- 
self, grateful  for  the  intervention  of  Providence  which  saved 
him  from  the  irksome  experience  of  going  into  the  law.    In 


From  a  Photograph,  Copyright,  by  London  Stereoscopic  Company 

HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW 


Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  445 

1826  he  went  abroad  for  three  years  of  study,  equipping  him- 
self before  his  return  with  a  thorough  knowledge  of  three 
languages  and  a  reading  acquaintance  with  several  more. 
He  was  ultimately  more  or  less  a  master  of  fourteen  modern 
tongues.  With  all  of  this  study,  nevertheless,  he  had  not 
lost  sight  of  his  original  desire  to  be  distinctly  an  American 
man  of  letters,  and  soon  after  his  return  he  gave  evidence  of 
this  in  a  vigorous  essay  on  the  "Function  of  the  American 
Poet."  The  time  for  echoing  foreign  literatures  was  past; 
foreign  subject-matter  should  no  longer  usurp  the  attention 
of  the  American  writer.  "To  this  effect  it  is  not  necessary 
that  the  war  whoop  should  ring  in  every  line,  and  every  page 
be  rife  with  scalps,  tomahawks  and  wampum.  Shade  of 
Tecumseh  forbid!  The  whole  secret  lies  in  Sidney's  maxim 
— 'Look  in  thy  heart  and  write'!" 

His  work  as  a  teacher  was  far  different  from  that  of  his 
successors  to-day.  The  only  other  man  of  his  kind  was 
Professor  George  Ticknor,  whom  he  was  later  to  succeed  at 
Harvard.  There  was  no  machinery  for  teaching,  so  that  he 
had  actually  to  prepare  and  publish  his  own  text-books.  As 
a  consequence,  he  was  almost  submerged  with  the  petty  de- 
tails connected  with  his  pioneer  professorship.  After  seven 
years  so  well  had  he  succeeded,  that  upon  the  resignation  of 
Professor  Ticknor,  Longfellow  was  called  to  the  Smith  Pro- 
fessorship at  Harvard,  the  invitation  being  accompanied 
with  the  practical  request  that  he  again  go  abroad  "  for  a  year 
or  eighteen  months"  for  the  purpose  of  a  more  perfect  at- 
tainment of  German.  Settling  in  Cambridge  in  1836,  he 
found  his  work  more  attractive  and  less  burdensome  than 
in  his  earlier  position.  He  was  confined  to  teaching  only 
three  days  in  the  week,  and  began  to  write,  publishing  The 
Voices  of  the  Night  in  1839,  The  Spanish  Student  in  1842, 
and  The  Belfry  of  Bruges  and  Other  Poems  in  1846. 

In  these  works  the  two  lines  of  interest  in  Longfellow  seem 
evidently  to  have  converged.  He  was  still  eager,  as  he  had 
been  while  in  college,  "after  future  eminence  in  literature." 
He  was  a  thorough  and  successful  student  and  teacher  of  the 
modern  languages.  He  was  consciously  an  American  citi- 
zen.  A  glance  at  the  poems  of  the  period  shows  his  academic 


446    "Popular  Spokesmen  of  the  Mid-century 

enthusiasm,  as  it  led  him  to  translate  foreign  poems,  to  imi- 
tate and  paraphrase  them,  and  to  use  material  drawn  from 
continental  sources.  ''The  Return  of  Spring,"  "The  Be- 
leaguered City,"  "Excelsior,"  and  "Nuremberg"  serve  by 
way  of  illustration.  His  American  poems  of  the  same  period 
may  be  drawn  from  local  American  themes,  as  in  the  case  of 
"The  Village  Blacksmith,"  "The  Arsenal  at  Springfield," 
and  "The  Bridge,"  or  written  as  the  result  of  his  adopting 
Sidney's  maxim  and  looking  into  his  own  heart,  as  illustrated 
by  "The  Light  of  Stars,"  "Footsteps  of  Angels,"  "The 
Rainy  Day,"  "Mezzo  Cammin."  In  each  of  these  groups 
of  poems  there  appears  a  mingling  of  spontaneous  sim- 
plicity and  somewhat  conventionalized  romantic  feeling. 

Longfellow's  Long  Poems  on  American  Themes. — By  the 
end  of  1845  Longfellow  started  on  a  period  which  was  to  end 
with  an  emancipation  from  his  college  duties  and  a  more 
complete  devotion  to  the  writing  of  essentially  American 
poems.  He  was  reverting  frequently  to  the  monotony  of  his 
college  work,  and  frequently  questioning  whether  he  could 
dare  to  continue  in  the  harness.  "I  am  too  restless  for  this. 
What  should  I  be  at  fifty?  A  fat  mill-horse,  grinding  round 
with  blinkers  on — this  will  not  do.  It  is  too  much  for  one's 
daily  bread  when  one  can  live  on  so  little."  Thus  he  wrote 
not  long  after  going  to  Cambridge;  yet  he  was  but  three  years 
short  of  fifty  when,  in  1854,  he  withdrew  from  his  professor- 
ship. In  the  meanwhile  Evangeline  had  appeared  in  1847, 
Hiawatha  was  completed  in  the  following  year;  the  New 
England  Tragedies  were  written  in  1856-1857,  although  not 
published  for  some  time;  The  Courtship  of  Miles  Slandish  in 
1858.  This  short  period  saw  the  production  of  his  great 
group  of  long  poems  and  his  finest  development  of  themes 
drawn  from  the  life  of  his  own  country.  Too  little  attention 
is  given  to  the  fine  New  England  Tragedies,  "  Governor 
Endicott,"  a  drama  based  on  the  persecution  of  the  Quakers 
in  Boston,  and  "Giles  Corey,"  a  Salem  witchcraft  episode 
in  dramatic  form. 

In  spite  of  this  great  output  of  American  material,  Long- 
fellow still  drew  on  the  fund  of  European  literature  and  tra- 
dition.    His  greatest  remaining  work  in  this  field  consisted 


Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  447 

in  the  translation  of  Dante's  Divine  Comedy.  But  at  the 
very  end  of  his  published  works  there  appears  significantly 
a  collection  of  twenty  poems  in  six  groups,  from  the  Spanish, 
the  Swedish  and  Danish,  the  German,  the  Anglo-Saxon,  the 
French  and  the  Italian. 

The  Range  of  Longfellow's  Subject-Matter. — In  a  general 
estimate  of  Longfellow  and  his  work  it  must  be  admitted 
first  in  connection  with  his  subject-matter  that  "He  was  in- 
spired chiefly  ...  by  noble  and  beautiful  records  of  facts 
long  since  dead  and  gone."  Even  when  dealing  with  native 
themes  the  inclination  to  draw  upon  memories  and  imagery 
derived  from  foreign  literatures  is  apparent.  The  image  in 
"The  Bridge"  of  the  goblet  falling  into  the  sea  is  not  un- 
familiar to  students  of  German  lyric  poetry.  "The  Slave's 
Dream."  is  told  in  a  romantic  spirit  quite  out  of  keeping  with 
the  supposed  subject  of  the  poem.  In  his  use  of  material  he 
shows  as  broad  a  range  as  Tennyson,  although,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  "The  Masque  of  Pandora,"  there  is  exceedingly 
little  which  harks  back  beyond  the  Middle  Ages.  Of  the 
more  modern  subject-matter  much  is  presented  in  ballad 
form,  the  briefly  presented  significant  event  full  of  objective 
interest;  much,  as  in  the  "Tales  of  the  Wayside  Inn,"  is  in 
the  fashion  of  one  or  another  of  the  longer  mediaeval  narrative 
forms  such  as  are  found  in  The  Canterbury  Tales;  and  much, 
notably  the  drama  Michael  Angelo,  shows  the  magic  influence 
of  Italy  and  all  the  wealth  of  Renaissance  art.  He  feels  the 
same  spell  which  successively  overcame  before  him  Shelley, 
Keats  and  Byron,  Landor,  the  Rossettis,  the  Brownings,  and 
many  another.  The  American  subject-matter  should  not 
be  dismissed  without  reference  to  the  simple  poems  drawn 
from  homely  contemporary  life,  such  as  "The  Dav  is  Done," 
"The  Old  Clock,"  "Children's  Hour,"  and  "The  Hanging 
of  the  Crane." 

Form  of  Longfellow's  Poems. — As  to  the  form  of  his  poetry, 
it  was  mostly  in  narrative  discourse  and  characterized  by 
skilful  general  structure.  Most  notably  it  was  simple,  not 
so  much  in  diction,  for  Longfellow  sometimes  used  recondite 
words  and  conventional  phrases,  but  simple  in  sentence 
structure  and  easily  understandable  in  its  allusions.     His 


448    Popular  Spokesmen  of  the  Mid-century 

lines  are  either  short  or,  if  long,  are  broken  by  distinct 
pauses;  his  scansion  is  regular;  his  rhymes  frequent  and 
unequivocal.  Further  than  this  he  has  contributed  to  com- 
mon speech  many  memorable  lines,  for  he  is  distinctly 
quotable.  His  "Silently  blossom  the  stars,"  his  "She 
seemed  to  feel  a  thrill  of  life  along  her  keel,"  his  "Footprints 
on  the  sands  of  time,"  his  "He  looked  the  whole  world  in  the 
face,"  show  his  aptitude  for  pat  felicity. 

Longfellow,  the  Man. — As  a  man,  Longfellow  is  eminently 
sound  and  sane.  Like  Tennyson,  he  seems  always  to  have 
written  as  though  "a  staid  matron  had  just  left  the  room." 
In  general  he  was  a  man  in  whom  a  sense  of  the  proprieties 
was  very  well  developed.  He  loved  children  and  birds;  he 
believed  in  the  family  and  the  uninterrupted  monotone  of 
happy  domesticity;  he  had  an  unimpassioned  respect  for 
patriotism.  But  in  a  larger  way  he  upheld  his  belief  in  the 
essential  goodness  of  man.  From  "The  Village  Black- 
smith" to  "Giles  Corey,"  and  from  "Giles  Corey"  to 
"Michael  Angelo,"  he  was  consistently  defending  mankind  to 
itself.  And,  last  of  all,  he  performed  what  Matthew  Arnold 
declared  to  be  the  function  of  culture:  the  task  of  "justify  (ing) 
the  ways  of  God  to  man."  He  was  a  consistent,  healthy,  en- 
couraging optimist,  who  doubted  not  that  "through  the  ages 
one  unceasing  purpose  runs." 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— Contrast  the  essential  characteristics  of  the 
popular  spokesmen  of  the  mid-century  with  those  of  such  men  as  Emer- 
son, Thoreau,  and  their  followers.  Give  an  outline  of  Whittier's  life, 
as  it  shows  his  practical  nature  in  his  ability  to  support  himself  as  a 
youth  and  in  his  hard  sense  as  applied  to  the  influencing  of  public 
opinion.  Tell  how  his  attitude  to  the  Abolition  movement  can  be 
traced  in  his  lyric  poems  from  1834  to  1865.  How  does  he  show  his 
affection  for  New  England  traditions,  as  well  as  for  the  New  England 
of  his  own  day?  Were  his  comments  on  his  own  poetical  power  and 
his  physical  strength  true  to  the  facts? 

State  the  main  facts  in  the  life  of  James  Russell  Lowell.  Show  how 
his  attempt  to  find  himself  resulted  in  the  struggle  between  the  love 
of  the  beautiful  and  his  strong  moral  sense.  See  how  this  was  carried  on 
in  terms  of  "The  Present  Crisis,"  "The  Biglow  Papers,"  and  "The  Vision 


Reading  Guide  449 

of  Sir  Launfal"  in  different  ways.  How  was  his  versatility  further  de- 
veloped by  his  relationship  with  Harvard  University?  In  what  re- 
spects is  it  fair  to  say  of  him  that  he  was  the  Elizabethan  of  the  New 
England  nineteenth-century  poets? 

Why  is  the  uneventfulness  of  the  life  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  worth 
commenting  on  in  view  of  his  work  as  a  man  of  letters  ?  Contrast  his 
experience  with  that  of  Addison,  of  Goldsmith,  and  of  Irving,  all  of 
whom  developed  into  satirists,  who  were  comparable  to  himself.  What 
various  kinds  of  society  verse  did  Holmes  write  which  show  in  different 
ways  his  relation  to  his  town  and  his  college?  Notice  the  shift  in  his 
literary  activity  when  at  the  age  of  forty-eight  he  turned  toward  the 
four  books  of  prose  essays  which  he  was  originally  stimulated  to  write 
by  Lowell  for  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly."  What  justice  is  there  in  the 
common  assertion  that  Holmes  was  an  echo  of  the  eighteenth  century 
in  the  substance  and  in  the  form  of  his  works? 

What  concrete  evidence  exists  that  Longfellow  enjoyed  greater  pop- 
ularity than  any  other  American  poet  ?  Give  the  main  facts  in  his 
life,  particularly  as  these  show  the  development  of  his  enthusiasm  for 
scholarship  and  his  ambition  to  become  a  man  of  letters.  Why  should 
his  mastery  of  various  languages  and  literatures  affect  him  when  he 
attempted  to  write  native  American  verse?  What  evidences  of  this 
exist  in  the  poetry  which  he  wrote  up  to  1845  ?  Give  the  names  of  his 
chief  poems,  drawn  directly  from  American  material.  Do  these  show 
that  he  followed  Sydney's  precept  to  look  into  his  own  heart  and  write? 
Was  his  interest  in  America  directed  toward  the  social  facts  of  his  day 
in  any  such  way  as  that  of  Whittier,  Lowell,  and  Holmes?  Select  any 
of  his  most  popular  poems  and  test  them  to  see  whether  there  are  pres- 
ent in  them  the  common  sources  of  popularity:  familiar  and  symmet- 
rical form,  clearness  of  content,  the  narrative  thread,  and  an  applied 
moral. 

READING  GUIDE.— Readings  from  Whittier  should  include  in 
the  first  group  "Snow-Bound,"  "In  School  Days,"  "The  Trailing  Ar- 
butus," "Skipper  Ireson's  Ride,"  "Cassandra  Southwick,"  "Abram 
Davenport."  The  second  group  should  include  his  war-poems  men- 
tioned in  the  text.  Good  short  lives  of  Whittier  are  by  T.  W.  Higgin- 
son  (English  Men  of  Letters  series)  and  George  R.  Carpenter  (Amer- 
ican Men  of  Letters  series). 

Readings  from  Lowell  should  include  in  the  first  group  "The  Present 


450    Popular  Spokesmen  of  the  Mid-century 

Crisis,"  selections  from  "A  Fable  for  Critics,"  "The  Vision  of  Sir 
Launfal,"  and  selections  from  "The  Biglow  Papers"  (second  series). 
The  second  group  should  include  "She  Came  and  Went,"  "The  First 
Snow-Fall,"  "After  the  Burial,"  "The  Harvard  Commemoration  Ode." 
From  his  prose,  his  essays  on  "New  England  Two  Centuries  Ago," 
"Cambridge  Thirty  Years  Ago,"  "Emerson  the  Lecturer,"  and 
"Thoreau"  have  a  double  value  as  Lowell's  work  and  as  literary  his- 
tory.    Good  biographies  are  by  H.  E.  Scudder  and  by  Ferris  Greenslet. 

Readings  from  Holmes  should  include,  from  his  verse:  "Old  Iron- 
sides," "The  Last  Leaf,"  "Latter-Day  Warnings,"  "The  Chambered 
Nautilus,"  "The  Deacon's  Masterpiece,  or  The  Wonderful  'One  Hoss 
Shay'";  from  his  prose,  chapters  either  from  "The  Autocrat  of  the 
Breakfast-Table"  or  from  "Over  the  Tea-Cups."  The  best  short  life 
is  by  S.  M.  Crothers  (announced  in  American  Men  of  Letters  series). 

Readings  from  Longfellow  should  include  "The  Courtship  of  Miles 
Standish,"  "The  Song  of  Hiawatha,"  "Evangeline,"  "A  Psalm  of  Life," 
"The  Village  Blacksmith,"  "Excelsior,"  "The  Bridge,"  "The  Arrow 
and  the  Song,"  "Curfew,"  "The  Building  of  the  Ship,"  "Paul  Revere's 
Ride,"  and  others  as  time  affords  the  opportunity.  Two  good  one- 
volume  biographies  are  by  George  R.  Carpenter  (Beacon  Biographies) 
and  by  T.  W.  Higginson  (American  Men  of  Letters  series). 

Note:  "The  Chief  American  Poets,"  edited  by  Curtis  Hidden  Page, 
is  the  most  useful  single  book  for  study  of  the  poets  in  this  chapter. 
Recommendations  for  reading  are  limited  to  the  selections  included 
therein,  from  the  poets  above  as  well  as  from  Bryant,  Emerson,  Poe, 
Whitman,  and  Lanier. 


CHAPTER  V 
POE,   WHITMAN,  AND  THE   SOUTHERN  POETS 

I.    INTRODUCTION 

Two  Isolated  Poets.— In  the  Old  World  Edgar  Allan  Poe 
and  Walt  Whitman  are  considered  by  most  critics  to  be  the 
greatest  men  of  letters  whom  America  has  yet  produced.  By 
their  own  countrymen  they  are  not  so  generally  applauded. 
A  possible  explanation  for  this  is  suggested  by  the  fact  that 
both  of  these  men  in  a  measure  defy  the  "historical"  method 
of  criticism,  for  neither  was  involved  in  ordinary  community 
life  of  the  country  after  the  fashion  of  the  normal  man  of 
letters.  They  belonged  to  no  groups  and  represented  no 
social  movements.  Both  of  them,  moreover,  were  victims  of 
a  certain  degree  of  unbalance  as  measured  by  the  standard 
adopted  by  Emerson.  Poe  kept  his  head  too  much  in  soli- 
tude and  lost  sight  of  the  world;  Whitman  plunged  his  hands 
so  deep  in  society  that  he  forfeited  to  some  extent  his  sense 
of  perspective.  Out  of  this  a  curious  paradox  arises,  for 
Poe,  who  lived  in  point  of  sympathy  almost  wholly  apart  from 
the  people,  is  steadily  gaining  in  popularity;  while  Whitman, 
who  was  deep  in  the  stream  of  life  and  elected  himself  to  be 
the  poet  of  democracy,  has  always  been  more  talked  about 
than  read. 

II.    EDGAR  ALLAN  POE    (1809-1849) 

Poe's  Early  Opportunities. — The  parents  of  Edgar  Allan 
Poe  were  actors  known  as  the  "Virginia  Comedians."  He 
was  born  in  Boston,  January  19,  1809,  and  within  two  years 
was  an  orphan.     The  three  children  (for  he  had  an  older 

451 


452     Poe,  Whitman,  and  the  Southern  Poets 

brother  and  a  younger  sister)  were  adopted  into  Southern 
families,  Mr.  John  Allan,  of  Richmond,  Va.,  a  prosper- 
ous merchant,  becoming  the  foster-father  of  Edgar.  The 
boy  had  the  best  of  educational  advantages,  first  in  an  English 
school  from  the  age  of  six  to  eleven,  then  in  two  Richmond 
academies,  and  later  in  the  University  of  Virginia,  which  he 
entered  at  the  age  of  seventeen.  Here  he  was  brilliant  but 
irregular,  his  creditable  work  in  Latin  and  French  not  off- 
setting the  gambling  debts  which  caused  his  first  separation 
from  Mr.  Allan.  Two  years  in  the  army  were  concluded  by 
an  honorable  discharge  in  1829  and  a  reconciliation  with  his 
father;  but  his  West  Point  experience,  which  came  next, 
ended  so  disastrously  that  Mr.  Allan  at  his  death,  three  years 
later,  left  nothing  to  his  foster-son. 

Poe's  Later  Life. — The  remainder  of  his  life  was  a  pathetic 
struggle  to  adjust  himself  to  the  ways  of  the  world.  He  mar- 
ried his  cousin,  Virginia  Clemm,  in  1834,  and  was  faithfully 
devoted  to  her  till  her  death,  thirteen  years  later.  He  became 
the  literary  editor  of  various  magazines:  The  Southern  Liter- 
ary Messenger,  1 835-1 837;  The  Gentleman's  Magazine,  1839- 
1840;  Graham's  Magazine,  1841-1843;  The  Evening  Mirror 
(New  York),  1844;  The  Broadway  Journal,  1845.  It  was  in 
these  periodicals  that  the  majority  of  his  poems  and  stories 
appeared,  but  his  income  from  them  never  removed  him  from 
the  verge  of  poverty.  After  the  loss  of  his  wife,  in  1847,  he 
wrote  less  frequently.  The  distressing  circumstances  of  his 
death  in  October,  1849,  have  never  been  fully  explained. 

The  Testimony  of  N.  P.  Willis. — So  persistent  is  the  tradi- 
tion that  Poe  was  given  to  unrestrained  self-indulgence  that 
the  characterization  by  Nathaniel  Parker  Willis,  of  the  Even- 
ing Mirror,  cannot  be  quoted  too  often:  "With  the  highest 
admiration  for  his  genius,  and  a  willingness  to  let  it  atone  for 
more  than  ordinary  irregularity,  we  were  led  by  common  re- 
port to  expect  a  very  capricious  attention  to  his  duties.  .  .  . 
Time  went  on,  however,  and  he  was  invariably  punctual  and 
industrious.  With  his  pale,  beautiful,  and  intellectual  face 
as  a  reminder  of  what  genius  was  in  him,  it  was  impossible,  of 
course,  not  to  treat  him  always  with  deferential  courtesy. 
.  .  .     (He  was)  a  quiet,  patient,  industrious,  and  most  gen- 


Edgar  Allan  Poe  453 

tlemanly  person,  commanding  the  utmost  respect  and  good 
feeling  by  his  unvarying  deportment  and  ability." 

Poe's  Choice  of  Subject-Matter. — Poe  is  not  alone  among 
artists  in  having  developed  and  clearly  expounded  his  theory 
as  to  choice  of  subject-matter  and  method  of  workmanship. 
No  student  of  his  works  can  afford  to  ignore  two  of  his  essays, 
"The  Philosophy  of  Composition,"  published  in  Graham 's 
Magazine  in  1846,  and  "The  Poetic  Principle,"  delivered  as 
a  lecture  almost  on  the  eve  of  his  death.  Although  the  larger 
part  of  his  work  is  in  the  form  of  short  prose  stories,  these  all 
contain  what  he  declared  to  be  the  essentials  of  poetry.  He 
divided  the  whole  world  of  mind  into  the  realms  of  pure  in- 
tellect, the  moral  sense,  and  the  field  of  taste,  and  choosing 
for  his  own  part  to  deal  only  with  beauty  which  "is  the 
sole  legitimate  province  of  the  poem."  As  in  his  opinion  no 
piece  of  literature  could  achieve  its  full  effect  if  it  could  not 
be  read  at  one  sitting,  he  almost  invariably  chose  to  treat  of 
brief  and  unified  conceptions.  These  dealt  with  beauty — or 
its  opposite — and  were  usually  tinged  with  grief,  so  that  even 
when  humor  appeared,  there  seemed  still  to  be  underlying  it 
a  "pleasurable  melancholy."  As  a  rule,  the  stories  in  their 
progress  subordinate  the  actual  events  to  the  feeling  which 
accompanies  them,  or,  at  the  most,  make  what  visibly  happens 
an  almost  incidental  conclusion  to  a  long  and  exciting  train 
of  emotional  experience. 

The  tales  are  of  many  degrees  of  credibility.  Among  his 
detective  stories  "The  Murders  of  the  Rue  Morgue,"  "The 
Purloined  Letter,"  and  "Thou  Art  the  Man"  appeal,  as  he 
planned,  to  the  reader's  sense  of  logic.  Every  step  is  de- 
fined, every  deduction  demonstrated.  These  are  the  acme 
of  clearness — if  they  were  not,  they  would  fail  as  detective 
stories.  Again,  in  such  accounts  as  "The  Gold  Bug,"  al- 
though deliberately  an  air  of  mystery  is  maintained  for  a  con- 
siderable time,  the  elucidation  is  all  so  careful  that  the  reader 
follows  without  hesitation  to  the  end.  Taking  a  step  farther, 
to  the  tales  of  horror  and  death,  the  same  convincing  quality 
remains.  You  cannot  interpret  in  ordinary  terms;  you  can- 
not conceive  as  possible  in  human  experience  such  events  as 
are  narrated  under  the  titles  of  "The  Fall  of  the  House  oi 


454     Poe,  Whitman,  and  the  Southern  Poets 

Usher,"  "The  Cask  of  Amontillado,"" The  Black  Cat," 
"The  Pit  and  the  Pendulum,"  'lThe  Tell-Tale  Heart," 
"Morella,"  "Berenice,"  and  yet,  as  you  read,  it  is  only  by  the 
utmost  exertion  that  you  can  resist  their  compelling  detail. 
Even  in  the  only  remaining  kind  of  story,  the  accounts  of 
marvellously,  incredible  adventure,  the  episodes  and  situations 
in  "Hans  Pfaall,"  "The  Narrative  of  Arthur  Gordon  Pym," 
and  "The  MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle"  are  at  once  beyond  belief 
and  beyond  doubt. 

"The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher."— "The  Fall  of  the 
House  of  Usher"  is  representative.  The  teller  of  the  story 
recounts  the  experiences  of  a  few  short  weeks  which  he 
spends  in  the  "melancholy  house  of  Usher,"  in  response  to 
an  importunate  request  from  its  owner.  Roderick  Usher  is 
living  in  the  midst  of  the  "  irredeemable  gloom  "  of  his  mould- 
ering castle,  a  victim  to  strange  and  awful  fears.  Ghostly 
servants  attend  him.  His  only  companion  has  been  his 
dying  sister,  the  Lady  Madeline.  During  the  last  days  of 
her  life  the  despairing  man  seeks  to  divert  himself  with  the 
solace  of  wild  music,  rhapsodic  verse,  and  the  reading  with 
his  guest  of  ancient  and  mysterious  books.  Finally  comes 
her  death  and  then  her  entombment  in  a  castle  vault,  for  a 
fortnight  before  her  last  burial.  A  week  passes,  when,  in 
the  midst  of  a  violent  storm,  under  the  most  awe-inspiring 
circumstances,  the  Lady  Madeline  reappears.  "There  was 
blood  upon  her  white  robes  and  the  evidence  of  some  bitter 
struggle  upon  every  portion  of  her  emaciated  frame.  For  a 
moment  she  remained  trembling  and  reeling  to  and  fro  upon 
the  threshold;  then,  with  a  low,  moaning  cry,  fell  heavily  in- 
ward upon  the  person  of  her  brother,  and  in  her  violent  and 
now  final  death-agonies  bore  him  to  the  floor  a  corpse,  and  a 
victim  to  the  terror  he  had  anticipated."  Horrified  by  what 
has  occurred,  the  friend  flees  in  fear  from  the  mansion,  but 
has  hardly  left  it  when,  with  a  roar  of  mighty  walls,  the  build- 
ing crashes  to  earth  and  thus  completes  the  fall  of  the  House 
of  Usher. 

Poe's  Methods  of  Story- Telling. — No  one  reading  this  with 
sceptical  disbelief  could  be  deceived  into  thinking  that  the 
events  narrated  ever  actually  took  place,  and  yet  the  story  is 


Edgar  Allan  Poe  455 

uncannily  thrilling.  If  this  effect  upon  the  reader  does  not 
arise  from  the  nature  of  the  subject-matter,  it  must  be  traced 
to  the  methods  by  which  the  story  is  told.  If  one  seeks  for 
an  explanation  in  these,  the  reasons  for  the  vividness  of 
interest  are  not  hard  to  find.  In  the  first  place,  Poe ' '  staged  " 
his  stories  with  great  care,  making  the  backgrounds  har- 
monize perfectly  with  the  dominant  mood  of  the  narratives. 
He  found  that  he  could  best  keep  the  attention  concentrated 
by  putting  his  episodes  in  a  closely  circumscribed  space 
within  which  no  detail  was  beneath  his  concern.  To  the  sug- 
gestive value  of  draperies,  for  example,  and  especially  of 
moving  draperies,  Poe  was  keenly  alive;  and  illustrations  of 
the  subtle  value  of  color  or  the  absence  of  color  can  be  found 
on  almost  every  page.  With  the  scenery  thus  provided  for, 
he  accumulated  interest  during  the  course  of  the  story  by  a 
variety  of  means.  He  was  adroit  in  throwing  the  attention 
forward  by  skilful  opening  paragraphs;  he  employed  ingen- 
ious catch  words  and  apparently  random  suggestions  which 
disturb  the  reader's  peace  of  mind;  he  was  so  convincing  in  his 
elaboration  of  the  concrete  detail  that  the  very  material 
progress  of  the  story  becomes  a  matter  of  engrossing  interest ; 
and  finallv,  he  so  felt  the  emotions  he  described  that  he 
contrived  to  involve  the  reader  also,  and  to  make  him  re-live 
the  stories  as  he  turns  the  pages. 

The  Limitation  of  Poe's  Art. — Such  a  limited  kind  of  sub- 
ject-matter as  that  in  Poe's  stories  reflects  the  limitation  in 
his  own  experience,  and  suggests  the  intensity  of  his  life 
within  its  narrow  confines.  He  does  not  attempt  to  instruct, 
for  he  regards  the  intellect  in  connection  with  his  art  as  a 
mere  channel  for  the  emotions.  He  does  not  attempt  to  re- 
form ;  it  was  not  for  him  to  appeal  to  the  moral  sense.  Neither 
of  human  institutions  nor  of  human  nature  in  its  social  aspect 
has  he  anything  to  say.  Even  in  the  realm  of  the  emotions — 
the  domain  of  taste — he  upholds  no  ideal  but  the  ideal 
ecstasy.  He  presents  each  individual  passion  as  an  end  in 
itself.  In  spite  of  his  own  beautiful  self-abnegation  for  the 
sake  of  his  wife,  he  omits  in  his  stories  the  devotion  of  self- 
sacrifice,  or  worship,  or  patriotism.  Working  in  this  field 
and  by  the  most  extraordinary  means,  he  catches  and  holds 


456     Poe,  Whitman,  and  the  Southern  Poets 

the  reader's  attention,  dealing  with  passions  of  love,  hatred, 
revenge,  physical  fear,  and  varying  degrees  of  madness.  His 
works,  in  the  effect  which  they  produce  upon  the  reader,  are 
like  those  scenes  in  Shakespeare  which  introduce  the  ghostly 
and  supernatural.  In  life  and  in  letters  Poe  was  a  meteoric 
character,  swift-moving,  saturnine,  keen  of  intellect,  a  "melo- 
dramatic creature  of  genius"  who  suggests  many  another  man 
of  letters  but  can  be  closely  compared  with  none.  In  his  own 
age  he  was  miserably  unrewarded,  but  to-day  we  see  in  these 
fantastic  and  often  horrible  stories  works  of  art  which,  of 
their  kind,  are  hardly  to  be  surpassed. 

III.   WALT  WHITMAN    (1819-1892) 

Whitman  in  Contrast  with  Poe. — As  an  American  of  tre- 
mendously marked  individuality,  Walt  Whitman  is  often 
mentioned  in  the  same  breath  with  Poe.  Yet  in  the  two  men 
there  is  much  more  to  contrast  than  to  compare.  Whitman 
was  the  son  of  a  farmer  artisan,  and  was  given  no  particular 
education.  His  travels  were  those  of  a  wanderer  and  almost 
a  vagrant.  Where  Poe  was  rilled  with  the  love  of  the  beauti- 
ful, and  was  a  deliberate  and  painstaking  master  of  con- 
ventional technique,  Whitman  was  absorbed  in  the  lively 
contemplation  of  a  great  social  idea.  He  was  tumultuously  in- 
fatuated with  the  life  which  he  could  not  too  intimately  know, 
and  in  his  treatment  of  this  was  regardless  of  conventional 
form.  Again,  by  way  of  contrast,  he  was  able  always  to  take 
care  of  himself,  and  though  in  part  he  was  disabled  as  a  re- 
sult of  his  work  as  a  soldier-nurse  in  war  time,  he  survived  to 
a  ripe  old  age  and  achieved  a  wide  reputation,  dying  finally 
full  of  years  in  the  arms  of  his  friends. 

Whitman's  Training. — Whitman  was  born  at  Huntington, 
Long  Island,  in  May,  1819.  Although  the  family  moved  to 
Brooklyn  when  he  was  four  years  old,  he  remained  a  country 
boy  in  spirit,  haunting  the  shores  of  the  island  winters  and 
summers.  His  education  was  gained  partly  like  Franklin's,  in 
the  printing-shop,  and  partly  like  Whittier's,  in  country-school 
teaching.  Between  the  ages  of  twenty  and  thirty  he  was  in 
and  about  what  is  now  Greater  New  York,  a  printer,  reporter, 


WALT  WHITMAN 


458     Poej  Whitman,  and  the  Southern  Poets 

and  editor  on  daily  papers,  and  contributor  to  at  least  one  im- 
portant magazine.  In  1849  he  extended  his  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  American  people  by  taking  a  leisurely  trip 
down  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  rivers  to  New  Orleans,  and 
thence,  after  working  awhile  on  the  Daily  Crescent,  back  to 
New  York  by  way  of  the  Great  Lakes  and  southern  Canada. 
He  was  now  ready  to  do  the  work  which  made  him  famous. 

"  Leaves  of  Grass." — In  1855  appeared  the  first  edition  of 
his  Leaves  of  Grass,  a  tall,  thin  book,  not  issued  by  any  pub- 
lisher, but  actually  set  up  in  type  and  printed  by  Whitman's 
own  hands  or  under  his  direction.  Its  first  reception  was 
similar  to  that  of  Emerson's  Nature;  and  just  as  Carlyle  had 
supplied  the  only  real  piece  of  encouragement  to  the  Concord 
essayist,  so  Emerson  was  almost  alone  in  his  greeting  to  the 
printer-poet.  "I  find  it  the  most  extraordinary  piece  of 
wit  and  wisdom  that  America  has  yet  contributed.  ...  I 
greet  you  at  the  beginning  of  a  great  career,  which  must  have 
had  a  long  foreground  somewhere  for  such  a  start."  Nat- 
urally enough,  the  other  great  original  mind  in  Concord  was 
similarly  impressed.  Says  Thoreau  in  1856:  "That  Walt 
Whitman  ...  is  the  most  interesting  fact  to  me  at  present. 
I  have  just  read  his  second  edition  .  .  .  and  it  has  done  me 
more  good  than  any  reading  for  a  long  time."  The  edition 
of  1856  was  double  the  size  of  the  first.  In  i860  it  appeared 
once  more,  with  an  added  group  of  poems  on  the  friendship  of 
men,  "Calamus."  The  1867  edition  included  "Drum  Taps," 
his  poems  of  the  war.  Six  times  more,  under  the  same 
general  title,  the  book  appeared  during  Whitman's  life,  the 
last  issues  being  in  1888,  with  "November  Boughs"  as  the 
added  section,  and  in  1891,  when  he  printed  his  valedictory, 
"Good-bye,  My  Fancy."  His  noble  experiences  as  a  hos- 
pital nurse  in  Washington  from  1863  to  1865  left  him  weak- 
ened by  poisoning  from  a  wound  he  had  helped  to  dress.  In 
1873  came  a  stroke  of  paralysis;  for  the  next  nineteen  years,  till 
his  death  in  1892,  he  was  an  invalid. 

Whitman's  Form  a  Stumbling-Block. — The  single  poem  of 
most  importance  in  all  Whitman  is  naturally  the  "Song  of 
Myself."  It  is  a  long  series  of  discursive  observations  on 
life,  presented  in  fifty-two  sections  or  chapters.     Some  of 


Walt  Whitman  459 

them  are  philosophical  expositions;  some  are  vivid  pictures 
briefly  drawn  and  unaccompanied  by  any  comments;  some 
are  stirring  anecdotes;  some  are  tender  and  sympathetic  na- 
ture poems;  but  many,  and  far  too  many,  are  rambling  lists 
of  people  or  places  presented  without  any  apparent  coherence 
or  system.  When  one  reads  a  passage  like  the  following  the 
fatigue  of  the  long  inventory  soon  oppresses  him,  and  yet  the 
quoted  part  is  a  very  small  fraction  of  the  almost  interminable 
sentence: 

"By  the  city's  quadrangular  houses — in  log  huts,  camping  with  lum- 
bermen, 
Along  the  ruts  of  the  turnpike,  along  the  dry  gulch  and  rivulet  bed, 
Weeding  my  onion-patch  or  hoeing  rows  of  carrots  and  parsnips, 

crossing  savannas,  trailing  in  forests, 
Prospecting,  gold-digging,  girdling  the  trees  of  a  new  purchase, 
Scorched  ankle-deep  by  the  hot  sand,  hauling  my  boat  down  the 

shallow  river, 
Where  the  panther  walks  to  and  fro  on  a  limb  overhead,  where  the 

buck  turns  furiously  at  the  hunter, 
Where  the  rattlesnake  suns  his  flabby  length  on  a  rock,  where  the  otter 
is  feeding  on  fish," 

No  discussion  of  Whitman  is  complete  which  does  not  take 
some  account  of  his  literary  form.  Though  the  current 
criticisms  of  him  are  for  the  most  part, widely  extravagant, 
they  have,  of  course,  evident  basis.  There  is  no  dodging  the 
fact  that  he  shows  so  little  inclination  to  select  or  arrange  his 
material  that  the  impatient  reader  is  tempted  to  interpret 
his  long  and  frequent  inventories  or  catalogues  as  the  vagaries 
of  a  wildly  unregulated  mind.  Nor  may  his  diction  be  justi- 
fied when  measured  by  commonly  accepted  standards.  He 
is  given  to  the  wanton  use  of  words  that  are  no  words  at  all, 
or  words  from  foreign  tongues  used  for  no  good  reason,  and 
certainly  for  no  American  reason,  such  as  "Habitan  of  the 
Alleghenies,"  to  "effuse,"  to  "promulge,"  "imperturbe," 
"Americanos,"  "comerados,"  " translatress,"  "oratress"; 
he  calls  himself  "no  dainty,  dolce  affetuoso  "  in  the  same  poem 
in  which  he  hails  "Ma  femme"  and  speaks  "with  reference 
to  ensemble."  The  critic  is  tempted  to  assent  when  Whit- 
man says :  "  I  sound  my  barbaric  yawp  over  the  roofs  of  the 


460     Poe3  Whitman,  and  the  Southern  Poets 

world."  Yet  it  may  be  readily  demonstrated  by  any  who 
will  take  the  time,  that  instead  of  being  formless  he  wrote  in 
a  style  of  his  own;  that  his  earliest  work,  instead  of  being  hap- 
hazard, was  a  result  of  frequent  and  painstaking  revision. 
In  Specimen  Days  he  writes:  "I  had  great  trouble  in  leaving 
out  the  stock  'poetical  touches,'  but  I  succeeded  at  last"; 
and  in  his  Rules  jor  Composition  he  expressed  his  desire  for 
"a  perfectly  transparent,  plate-glassy  style,  artless,  with  no 
ornaments,  nor  attempts  at  ornaments,  for  their  own  sake." 
Whether  the  result  is  poetry  or  not  has  been  discussed  at 
somewhat  unprofitable  length.  It  is  much  more  important 
to  discover  what  his  writings  mean  and  what  kind  of  man 
they  show  him  to  be. 

Whitman's  Democracy. — He  considered  himself  to  be  the 
poet  and  prophet  of  the  American  people.  He  was  frankly 
infatuated  with  them.  Certain  attributes  of  his  country  and 
his  countrymen  seemed  to  him  essentially  American  and  the 
birthright  of  his  nation.  Without  discriminating  and  without 
first  knowledge  of  other  lands,  he  said  confidently  that  the 
best  sort  of  nation  was  a  new  nation  and  that  all  old  nations 
were  abominable.  So  he  cried  up  an  ideal  democracy  which 
was  quite  irrational  and  actually  non-existent  in  either  the 
Old  World  or  the  New.  The  weakest  point  in  the  philosophy 
of  Whitman  seems  to  have  been  his  extravagant  enthusiasm 
over  this  conception  of  democracy  which  appears  to  deny  the 
superiority  of  any  man  to  any  other  man,  a  theory  which  is 
rendered  void  on  its  first  application  to  daily  life. 

Whitman  a  Transcendentalist. — This  deep  absorption  in 
the  moral  problems  of  life  shows,  however,  that  though  he 
did  not  possess  the  balance  of  Emerson,  he  was  for  the  most 
part  in  surprisingly  close  accord  with  the  Concord  sage.  His 
poems  are  filled  with  references  to  the  dignity  of  the  indi- 
vidual man,  and  the  necessity  of  his  living  freely  in  the  light 
of  his  own  judgment.  Against  tradition  and  custom  he 
makes  the  same  protests  as  do  the  Transcendentalists,  and 
like  them  he  finds  in  nature  not  only  objects  of  beauty  for 
passive  contemplation,  but  also  the  visible  handiwork  of  the 
Creator.  The  wonder  of  the  simplest  growing  things  in 
field  and  forest  stir  his  heart.    He  sees  the  same  law  in  them 


rA  Group  of  Southern  Writers  461 

and  in  himself.     So,  when  he  hears  in  the  cool  night  the  honk 
of  the  wild  gander, 

"The  pert  may  suppose  it  meaningless,  but  I,  listening  close, 
Find  its  purpose  and  place  up  there  toward  the  wintry  sky." 

Whitman's  work,  though  it  has  its  eminent  admirers,  lacks 
the  cardinal  features  which  belong  to  widely  popular  litera- 
ture. It  is  not  simple  and  familiar  in  its  external  dress;  it  is 
not  easily  intelligible  in  content;  it  does  not  take  advantage 
of  that  narrative  form  which  is  dear  to  the  reading  public. 
The  enthusiasm  of  a  few  champions  strives  in  vain  to  offset 
the  neglect  of  the  people  at  large. 

IV.    A  GROUP  OF  SOUTHERN  WRITERS 

Sidney  Lanier. — Sidney  Lanier  was  a  Georgian,  born  in  1842, 
of  courtly  and  artistic  lineage.  Descended  as  he  was  from 
cavalier  stock,  he  inherited  a  love  of  the  beautiful  which  was 
by  no  means  universal  among  the  Northern  descendants  of 
Puritan  blood.  As  a  boy  he  was  ab,le  to  play  many  musical 
instruments ;  in  school  and  college  he  was  a  natural  student. 
After  four  years'  service  in  the  Confederate  army  he  came  out 
with  wrecked  health.  For  a  while  he  taught,  for  a  while 
practised  law.  During  his  last  nine  years  he  was  engaged  in 
a  continual  struggle  for  life  and  a  livelihood,  making  Baltimore 
his  home,  but  for  his  health's  sake  often  retiring  to  the  up- 
lands. He  was  first  flute  in  the  Peabody  Symphony  Or- 
chestra; he  was  the  editor  of  four  boys'  versions  of  English 
classics;  and  from  1879  to  his  death  in  1881  he  was  Lecturer 
on  English  Literature  in  Johns  Hopkins  University.  A 
passage  from  one  of  his  letters  leaves  a  touching  record  of  his 
toilsome  aspiration  as  an  artist:  "I  find  within  myself  such 
entire  yet  humble  confidences  of  possessing  every  single  ele- 
ment of  power  to  carry  (all  my  ideas  of  art)  out,  save  the 
little  paltry  sum  of  money  that  would  suffice  to  keep  us 
clothed  and  fed  in  the  meantime.  I  do  not  understand  this." 
Naturally  this  tragic  element  in  his  life  begot  a  high  serious- 
ness in  his  work.    He  was  convinced  that  he  had  a  mission  to 


462      Poe,  Whitman,  and  the  Southern  Poets 

perform — to  do  what  he  might  to  retard  certain  evil  ten- 
dencies of  his  generation,  and,  as  an  artist,  to  promote  holi- 
ness and  beauty.  On  the  broad  reaches  of  nature  he  loves 
to  repose:  the  blackness  of  a  summer  night  in  "Columbus"; 
the  silence  just  before  dawn  in  "Sunrise";  the  expanse  in 
1 '  The  Marshes  of  Glynn  "  are  to  him  full  of  infinite  suggestion 
and  infinite  sympathy.  .Though  he  does  not  often  write  what 
would  be  called  religious  poetry,  he  is  as  one  with  all  men  to 
whom  nature  is  "a  living  garment  of  God,"  a  symbol  of  the 
Most  High.  Two  characteristics  are  most  prominent  in 
Lanier  and  his  work:  the  first  is  his  view  of  art  as  a  moral 
force,  and  the  success  with  which  he  combines  his  love  of 
beauty  and  his  love  of  truth  with  little  apparent  loss  of  either; 
the  second  is  his  mastery  of  poetic  form  as  a  pure  artist.  His 
fine  sense  of  the  possibilities  of  the  poetic  line,  his  apprecia- 
tion of  the  connection  between  meaning  and  sound,  and  his 
almost  complete  control  of  various  metrical  schemes  are 
productive  of  many  exquisite  passages. 

Timrod  and  Hayne. — Two  Charleston  contemporaries, 
towns-fellows,  and  friends  through  life,  next  to  Sidney  Lanier, 
have  made  the  most  genuine  contribution  to  the  poetry  of  the 
South — Henry  Timrod  (i  829-1 876)  and  Paul  Hamilton 
Hayne  (1 830-1 886).  Timrod's  experiences  as  a  boy  and 
young  man  were  very  similar  in  some  ways  to  those  of  Lanier. 
When  he  went  to  the  front  during  the  Civil  War  and  was  re- 
jected from  the  ranks  as  unfit,  he  served  as  nurse  in  the  army. 
There  is  a  rich  sensitiveness  of  personality  which  pervades  his 
work.  His  is  the  work  of  a  Southerner  in  its  point  of  view, 
in  its  courtliness,  in  its  somewhat  naive  self-satisfaction,  and 
also  in  its  wealth  of  imagery  and  allusion.  Most  character- 
istic of  his  own  country  are  two  poems,  "  Ethnogenesis,"  a 
poem  celebrating  the  birth  of  that  new  nation  which  secession 
was  to  bring  into  being,  and  "The  Cotton  Boll,"  a  poem  of 
the  peculiar  product  of  the  South  as  it  is  suggestive  of  far 
more  than  its  commercial  value.  Timrod  writes  much,  how- 
ever, which  is  only  tacitly  local  in  its  quality,  part  of  which  is 
in  his  lyric  poems  of  love,  and  part  in  his  nature  poems, 
which  are  full  of  the  South  in  warmth,  glow,  and  color,  and 
of  delight  in  the  changes  of  the  year,  and  references  to  bird, 


Review  Outline 

plant,  flower,  and  tree.     At  his  best,  Timrod  is  frequently 
suggestive  of  certain  passages  in  Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti. 

Paul  Hamilton  Hayne,  born  a  year  later  than  Timrod, 
came  of  better  parentage  and  was  more  robust  in  person,  his 
education  was  less  interrupted,  his  war  experience  more  fort- 
unate. A  comparison  between  the  two  men  comes  back 
always  directly  or  indirectly  to  the  physical  strength  in  Hayne 
with  which  Timrod  was  not  endowed.  Assuming  that  both 
are  essentially  Southern  in  character,  in  poetic  imagery  and 
allusion,  in  choice  of  subject-matter,  and  in  point  of  view, 
certain  contrasts  present  themselves.  Hayne  with  his  more 
abundant  vigor  is  at  times  strident  where  Timrod  is  simply 
passionate.  Hayne  has  a  tendency  to  declaim  his  feelings, 
and  so  strong  an  inclination  to  make  them  known,  that  at 
times  he  appears  to  lash  himself  into  a  state  of  frenzy  in 
order,  as  it  were,  to  have  something  to  talk  about.  Timrod 
shrinks  sometimes  from  self-expression,  because  a  thought 
once  uttered  ceases  to  be  his  own.  Hayne's  pleasure  in  self- 
revelation  and  in  gaining  an  audience  is  revealed  by  the  great 
volume  of  his  work  compared  with  that  of  his  friend.  In 
subject-matter  this  superior  masculine  robustness  determines 
further  contrast  between  Hayne  and  his  townsman.  In  the 
first  place,  he  lived  long  enough  to  see  the  reconstruction  and 
reconciliation  for  which  Timrod  prayed  and  hoped  until  the 
time  of  his  death;  Hayne  consequently  celebrated  what  Tim- 
rod could  only  invoke.  However,  as  he  was  given  to  the 
enjoyment  of  self-expression,  Hayne  tried  his  hand  at  poetic 
construction  other  than  lyric.  He  composed  a  variety  of 
legends  derived  from  classical,  later  continental,  and  con- 
temporary sources,  and  wrote  a  large  number  of  poems  in 
memory  of  Northern,  Southern,  and  foreign  distinguished 
men. 

REVIEW  OUTLINE.— Recalling  Emerson's  attempt  to  compromise 
the  charms  of  solitude  with  the  call  of  society,  note  in  what  respects 
both  Whitman  and  Poe  fail  to  keep  that  perfect  balance  which  Emer- 
son advocated  and  succeeded  in  maintaining.  Give  the  main  facts 
in  Poe's  life.  What  was  the  tribute  of  Nathaniel  Parker  Willis 
in  contrast  to  the  common  estimate  of  Poe's  character  ?     Into  what 


4G4    Poe,  Whitman,  and  the  Southern  Poets 

three  divisions  did  Poe  separate  the  world  of  mind,  and  to  which  did 
he  elect  to  devote  himself?  What  were  his  convictions  as  to  the  legit- 
imate length  of  a  poem,  its  subject-matter,  and  its  dominant  mood? 
In  what  sense  should  his  stories  be  read  with  the  same  kind  of  attention 
which  is  demanded  by  poetry?  In  terms  of  the  credibility  of  his  sto- 
ries, what  general  classes  can  be  made  ?  How  does  Poe  secure  the  vivid- 
ness of  interest  in  his  narrative,  (a)  in  the  setting  of  his  stories,  (b)  in 
the  methods  of  introduction,  and  (c)  in  the  lyric  or  emotional  quality? 
In  what  degree  do  his  stories  reveal  the  limitation  of  Poe's  own  experi- 
ence in  the  life  of  the  world  ? 

Contrast  in  its  main  events  the  career  of  Whitman  with  that  of  Poe. 
What  were  the  circumstances  attending  the  reception  of  the  first  edi- 
tion of  "  Leaves  of  Grass  "  ?  In  spite  of  these  facts,  what  was  the  his- 
tory of  the  successive  editions  up  to  the  time  of  his  death  ?  What  con- 
cessions have  to  be  made  in  connection  with  Whitman's  style  in  point 
of  structure  and  diction?  What  defence  can  be  made  of  it  in  spite  of 
these  damaging  admissions?  Whitman,  in  a  measure,  was  a  Tran- 
scendentalist.  How  does  this  show  itself  in  his  attitude  toward  the 
individual,  toward  the  democratic  life  of  the  community,  and  toward 
external  nature?  Is  there  a  reasonable  explanation  for  Whitman's 
failure  to  secure  a  wide  reading  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  aspired  to 
be  a  poet  of  the  people  ? 

Since  early  Colonial  days  almost  all  American  literature  up  to  Civil 
War  time  emanated  from  the  North;  now  a  group  of  Southern  poets 
appear.  What  is  significant  in  the  parentage  and  descent  of  Sidney 
Lanier?  Give  the  main  facts  in  his  life.  Note  his  combined  desire  to 
do  a  work  at  once  as  an  artist  and  as  a  moral  agent.  With  what  suc- 
cess does  he  make  this  attempt  ? 

The  two  Charleston  poets,  Timrod  and  Hayne,  are  more  limited  in 
their  outlook  than  Lanier.  In  what  respects  is  their  work  definitely 
Southern  in  its  quality?  How  may  the  two  be  compared  in  point  of 
vigor  of  physique  and  character,  and  in  what  evident  respect  is  this 
contrast  between  them  discoverable  in  their  manner  of  writing  and  in 
the  nature  and  variety  of  their  production? 

READING  GUIDE.— Readings  from  Poe  should  include  from  his 
verse,  "Lenore,"  "The  Coliseum,"  "The  Raven,"  "Ulalume,"  "Anna- 
bel Lee";  from  his  prose,  "The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher,"  "The 
Gold  Bug,"  "The  Purloined  Letter,"  "The  Cask  of  Amontillado." 


Beading  Guide  465 

Good  one-volume  biographies  are  by  George  E.  Woodberry  (American 
Men  of  Letters  series)  and  W.  P.  Trent  (announced  for  English  Men  of 
Letters  series). 

Readings  from  Whitman  should  include  "There  Was  a  Child  Went 
Forth,"  "Crossing  Brooklyn  Ferry,"  "Out  of  the  Cradle  Endlessly 
Rocking,"  "I  Hear  It  Was  Charged  Against  Me,"  "Mannahatta," 
"Myself  and  Mine,"  "A  Broadway  Pageant,"  "The  Wound-Dresser," 
"Give  Me  the  Splendid  Silent  Sun,"  "O  Captain!  my  Captain!"  "Ethi- 
opia Saluting  the  Colors,"  and  others  as  time  permits.  The  best  one- 
volume  biographies  are  by  Bliss  Perry  (Houghton,  Mifflin)  and  by 
George  R.  Carpenter  (English  Men  of  Letters  series). 

Readings  from  Lanier  should  include  "The  Symphony,"  "The 
Marshes  of  Glynn,"  "Marsh  Song— At  Sunset,"  "Sunrise."  The 
American  Men  of  Letters  series  includes  a  good  life  by  Edwin  Mims. 

Note:  As  in  the  preceding  chapter,  recommended  readings  from  the 
three  poets  are  for  convenience  limited  to  selections  from  the  contents 
of  C.  H.  Page's  useful  volume,  "The  Chief  American  Poets." 


CHAPTER  VI 

AMERICAN  FICTION  SINCE   i860 

The  Rise  of  Realism. — In  the  foregoing  pages  three  Ameri- 
can masters  of  fiction  have  been  mentioned  who  wrote  for 
wider  audiences  and  did  what  will  probably  be  a  more  lasting 
work  than  any  three  to  be  mentioned  in  this  chapter.  These 
men,  James  Fenimore  Cooper,  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  and  Na- 
thaniel Hawthorne,  were  all  writers  of  romance  who  laid 
down  their  pens  before  the  Civil  War.  With  the  new  gener- 
ation a  new  kind  of  fiction  has  come  into  vogue.  Neither  in 
choice  of  subject-matter  nor  in  method  of  narration  could 
this  earlier  trio  be  confused  or  identified  with  the  leading 
story-tellers  of  the  present  day.  It  is  perhaps  more  easy  to 
feel  this  distinction  than  to  define  it;  it  is  the  difference  be- 
tween romance  and  realism.  The  former  term  has  been  ex- 
pounded at  length  in  connection  with  the  great  English  poets 
and  novelists  of  the  opening  nineteenth  century;  the  latter  is 
that  kind  of  fiction  which  "does  not  shrink  from  the  common- 
place (although  art  dreads  the  commonplace)  or  from  the 
unpleasant  (although  the  aim  of  art  is  to  give  pleasure)  in  its 
effort  to  depict  things  as  they  are,  life  as  it  is."  If  this  be  a 
fair  definition,  it  follows  that  the  essential  feature  of  realism 
is  not  so  much  the  subject-matter  as  the  way  in  which  the 
subject-matter  is  presented;  and  that  the  most  complete 
realist  is  he  who  has  become  most  intimately  familiar  with  a 
limited  section  of  society. 

Howells's  Chosen  Field. — William  Dean  Howells  (183 7-) 
is  doubtless  the  man  who  would  be  most  generally  selected  as 
the  leader  of  the  realistic  school,  both  in  workmanship  and  in 
resultant  popularity.  As  in  the  case  of  Dickens,  his  experi- 
ence in  journalism,  even  before  he  had  become  of  age,  trained 
him  as  an  observer  and  critic.     Several    years  in  the  con- 

466 


William  Dean  Howells  467 

sular  service  in  Italy  were  followed  by  his  appointment  to 
the  assistant  editorship  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly.  Since  then 
his  life  has  been  wholly  spent  in  two  strongholds  of  Eastern 
conservatism — Boston  and  New  York.  It  is  a  natural  result 
that  his  stories  develop  the  point  of  view  of  the  fortunate  and 
cultured  members  of  metropolitan  society.  In  many  of  his 
books  he  is  content  to  indulge  in  a  pleasantly  realistic  por- 
trayal of  these  people.  In  this  special  field  the  life  that  he 
deals  with  is  a  life  of  infinitely  minute  distinctions:  the  man 
who  departs  from  the  norm  even  a  fraction  of  a  degree  be- 
comes interesting  under  the  microscopic  lens  of  his  keen 
observation.  v 

Howells's  Command  of  Detail, — Thus,  in  the  opening 
pages  of  Silas  Lapham,  the  attention  is  called  to  a  whole 
catalogue  of  social  peccadilloes.  As  Bartley  Hubbard  enters 
the  paint-manufacturer's  office,  Silas,  without  rising,  gives 
him  "his  left  hand  for  welcome,"  seals  a  letter  and  pounds  it 
"with  his  great  heavy  fist,"  pushes  the  door  to  with  a  huge 
foot,  and  intersperses  his  conversation  with  little  touches 
which  show  not  actual  vulgarity,  but  simply  a  lack  of  com- 
plete refinement  in  speech  and  manners.  By  innumerable 
little  touches  Silas  Lapham  is  set  apart  from  the  group  of 
Bostonians  among  whom  he  is  trying  to  rise.  Only  in  the 
hands  of  the  most  skilful  could  such  a  character  be  made 
interesting;  but  in  Mr.  Howells's  hands  the  triumph  is 
achieved. 

Howells's  Theory  as  to  Plot. — It  is  not,  however,  only  in  the 
raw  material  of  his  craft  that  such  a  realist  limits  himself.  As 
he  constructs  his  novels,  he  writes  in  the  belief  that  life  cannot 
be  separated  into  a  series  of  stories  which  are  wholly  isolated 
from  the  events  which  precede  and  follow  them.  The  writer 
of  romance,  starting  from  the  traditional  "once  upon  a 
time,"  lures  the  attention  from  point  to  point  until  he  con- 
cludes with  a  wholly  satisfactory  "and  so  they  lived  happily 
ever  after."  To  the  realist  this  is  much  more  pleasant  than 
lifelike.  Mr.  Howells  gives  the  impression  sometimes  of 
having  told  as  much  as  he  chose,  and  sometimes  implies  that 
a  sequel  to  the  story  just  completed  might  be  more  interesting 
than  what  he  has  related  so  far.     Thus,  on  the  concluding 


468  American  Fiction  Since  1860 

page  of  April  Hopes,  the  reader  finds  himself  in  a  position 
hardly  less  baffling  than  that  with  which  Stockton  ends  his 
famous  story,  The  Lady  or  the  Tiger.  Throughout  the 
book  two  young  people  have  been  progressing  toward  the 
wedding  with  which  it  ends.  The  lover  has  been  irresolute 
at  times,  at  times  elusive  and  almost  dishonest;  the  bride  has 
not  been  without  hours  of  jealousy  and  distrust.  As  they 
roll  away  to  the  station  after  the  wedding-reception  a  brief 
dialogue  for  the  last  time  reminds  the  reader  of  these  sources 
of  danger;  and  when  Mr.  Howells  concludes  with  "This  was 
the  beginning  of  their  married  life,"  the  reader  is  by  no  means 
as  content  with  the  prospects  of  the  future  as  the  "  happy- 
ever-after  "  formula  would  leave  him.  The  reason  for  his 
dissatisfaction  is  to  be  found  at  the  very  root  of  realism  in 
the  theory  that  no  story  ever  comes  to  a  complete  stopping- 
point. 

Howells's  Interest  in  Socialism. — Mr.  Howells  has  not  been 
content  merely  with  making  pen-portraits  of  interesting  in- 
dividuals, for  a  group  of  his  most  important  works  are  signifi- 
cant as  increasingly  definite  criticisms  of  society.  Long  be- 
fore there  was  any  such  thing  as  a  Socialist  party,  or  even  a 
Socialist  movement  in  America,  A  Hazard  oj  New  Fortunes 
and  The  World  oj  Chance  revealed  a  keen  interest  in  the 
difference  between  democracy  as  it  might  be  and  democracy 
as  it  exists  in  America.  The  appearance  of  The  Traveller  from 
Altruria  and  The  Eye  of  a  Needle  showed  that  this  was  no 
passing  interest,  but  that  Mr.  Howells  was  deliberately  using 
his  story-telling  skill  to  encourage  clear  thinking  on  one  of 
the  great  problems  of  his  time.  To-day  scores  of  other 
writers  are  doing,  or  attempting  to  do,  the  same  thing. 

Henry  James. — Henry  James  (1843-),  a  man  slightly 
younger  than  W.  D.  Howells,  is  so  severely  realistic  in  his 
method  that  he  has  been  the  subject  of  much  lively  discus- 
sion. Mr.  Howells  has  declared  him  the  most  distinguished 
author  now  writing  English,  and,  naturally,  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson,  as  a  champion  of  romance,  assailed  him  with  a 
fervor  which  verged  on  bitterness.  An  idea  of  the  nature  of 
his  subject-matter  can  be  gained  from  almost  any  of  his  books, 
for  he  has  been  consistent  from  Daisy  Miller  to  The  Golden 


The  Realism  of  the  West  469 

Bowl.  His  backgrounds  are  almost  always  intercontinental 
or  European;  his  characters  belong  to  the  leisure  class.  His 
episodes,  when  there  are  any,  are  adventures  of  the  mind;  his 
most  abundant  source  of  excitement,  duels  of  repartee.  His 
narrative  method  is  unmistakably  his  own.  In  his  plots 
there  is  an  absence  of  finality,  though  this  is  sometimes 
wrongly  adduced  as  demonstrating  that  his  stories  lack 
structure.  To  be  sure,  his  way  is  "startling  when  contrasted 
with  the  usual  methods  of  solution  by  rewards  and  punish- 
ments, by  crowned  love,  by  fortune,  by  a  broken  leg  or  a 
sudden  death."  The  usual  demand  of  mankind — to  be  set 
at  rest — is  never  met  by  one  of  the  James  novels.  They  end 
as  episodes  in  life  end,  with  the  sense  of  life  still  going  on.  In 
detail  his  analytical  habits  of  mind  lead  him  to  a  refinement 
of  accumulated  detail  which  is  interesting  or  fatiguing  accord- 
ing to  the  temperament  of  the  reader.  As  for  his  attitude 
toward  life,  he  pays  attention  to  little  but  the  beau  monde. 
It  is  not  to  be  desired  that  he  should  take  a  trip  into  the 
slums  or  indulge  in  one  digression  on  the  masses  versus  the 
classes  in  each  book,  but  the  fact  is  worth  noting  that  he 
never  does  those  things.  On  the  whole,  there  is  a  distinct 
absence  of  "problems"  or  discussion  of  human  institutions. 
He  restricts  himself  to  a  treatment  of  human  nature  in  the 
narrow  field  of  polite  society. 

The  Realism  of  the  West. — From  the  realism  of  metro- 
politan society  to  the  romantic  realism  of  the  Far  West,  there 
is  a  long  step.  Just  after  the  war  time,  Mark  Twain  and 
Bret  Harte  were  both  of  them  citizens  of  the  Pacific  coast. 
The  society  in  which  they  found  themselves  was  as  un- 
governed  as  the  society  of  the  frontier  must  always  be.  It 
was  made  up  of  a  composite  group  of  members  in  whom 
the  only  common  feature  was  their  restlessness.  They 
were  for  the  most  part  men  who  had  failed  to  "get  on"  at 
home  or  who  rebelled  at  "getting  on"  in  the  manner  of  a 
conventional  society  which  restricted  their  goings  in  and 
comings  out  and  limited  their  language  to  the  yea  and  nay  of 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  So  they  chose  to  try  their  fortunes 
anew  in  a  freer  atmosphere.  Here  all  was  yet  to  be  done, 
and  here  the  capacity  to  do  was  at  a  higher  premium  than  the 


470  American  Fiction  Since  1860 

capacity  to  conform.  The  popular  idea,  however,  that  San 
Francisco  was  full  of  thugs  and  bandits  is  as  false  as  that 
early  Virginia  was  populated  only  by  the  off-scourings  of 
London  society.  In  both  communities  there  were  men  of 
sound  character  and  high  ideals,  and  in  the  Californian  com- 
munity the  opportunity  to  write  of  both  good  and  bad,  and 
the  range  of  really  romantic  possibilities  which  a  keen  ob- 
server could  find  in  an  account  of  actual  conditions,  made  an 
opening  for  something  which  is  true  realism  though  as  far 
from  the  work  of  Howells  and  James  as  the  East  is  from  the 
West. 

Bret  Harte  (1839-1902). — It  is  interesting  and  amusing  to 
read  Bret  Harte's  introductory  statement  concerning  his 
first  success,  "  The  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp."  While  the  San 
Franciscans  and  the  Californians  were  not  discontented  with 
existing  conditions  which  prevailed  among  them,  they  had  a 
lingering  sense  of  the  proprieties  of  the  conventional  East, 
and  a  keen  distaste  for  the  inevitable  amusement  which 
a  true  account  of  themselves  was  sure  to  stimulate.  The 
first  opposition  to  his  story  which  Harte  encountered  was 
from  a  decorous  young  woman  on  the  Overland  Monthly,  of 
which  she  was  proofreader  at  the  time.  She  could  not  be  a 
partner  to  the  publication  of  a  story  which  mentioned  with 
perfect  frankness  characters  and  events  which  are  not  dis- 
cussed in  the  drawing-rooms  of  Beacon  Street  and  Fifth 
Avenue.  From  her  the  contagion  spread  to  the  proprietors 
of  the  Monthly,  and  when,  by  somewhat  heroic  means, 
Harte  succeeded  in  overruling  them  both,  the  publication  of 
an  account  of  the  native  heroism  and  devotion  of  a  Western 
mining-camp  was  pounced  upon  by  illustrious  defenders  of 
California  as  an  outrage.  The  significant  fact  is  that  the 
first  genuine  endorsement  of  this  scandalous  production  came 
from  the  magazine  of  all  magazines  which  stands  for  New 
England  conservatism — the  Atlantic  Monthly.  As  quicklv 
as  the  slow  methods  of  communication  of  a  half  century  age 
could  reach  the  West,  came  a  congratulatory  letter  from  its 
publishers,  offering  what  was  then  almost  magnificent  pay 
for  as  many  stories  of  the  same  outrageous  sort  as  the  author 
would  supply. 


Mark  Twain  471 

The  point  is,  that  the  literary  East  recognized  the  literary 
quality  of  the  tale,  which  is  true  and  vivid  even  though 
it  is  shocking  to  the  pride  of  the  people  of  whom  it  is  told. 
And  so  Harte  went  on.  His  first  success  was  the  tale  of  the 
regeneration  of  a  whole  camp  through  the  uplifting  effect  of 
common  respectability  which  it  felt  in  the  presence  of  a  little 
foundling  thrown  into  its  midst.  The  second  was  the  story 
of  "The  Outcasts  of  Poker  Flat,"  in  which  the  evil  off- 
scourings of  a  tough  frontier  boom  town  showed  themselves 
capable  of  sacrifice  and  heroism  in  a  desperate  struggle  for 
life  with  a  mountain  blizzard.  Full  of  exciting  adventures  as 
the  strong  stories  of  Harte  are,  romantic  in  nature  as  are  the 
episodes,  they  are  as  real  as  the  subjective  adventures  of  New 
York  and  Boston  life  in  their  effort  to  portray  things  as  they 
were  and  life  as  it  was.  In  this  vein,  which  necessitated  the 
introduction  of  the  unpleasant  to  as  great  a  degree  as  the 
tales  of  Howells  demanded  the  introduction  of  the  common- 
place, Bret  Harte  did  his  best  work. 

.  Mark  Twain. — Samuel  Langhorne  Clemens  (1835-)  began 
as  Bret  Harte  did  and  with  equal  success,  but,  all  in  all, 
has  done  a  much  broader  and  more  varied  work.  He 
was  born  in  Missouri  and  brought  up  in  Hannibal,  a  river- 
town.  While  a  boy  he  learned  the  printer's  trade,  but 
was  lured  away  from  this  by  the  fascination  of  life  on  the 
Mississippi,  and  for  five  years  followed  the  profession  of 
river-pilot.  It  is  from  one  of  the  familiar  calls  of  the 
boat's  crew  when  sounding  the  depth  of  the  channel  that  his 
nom  de  plume  was  drawn.  His  next  experience  was  in  a 
trip  to  the  West  and  an  unsuccessful  attempt  at  mining. 
Next  he  drifted  into  journalism  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  at 
last,  in  1867,  established  his  reputation  with  a  book  of 
humorous  stories  of  which  "The  Jumping  Frog"  was  the 
chief.  The  joy  of  this  foolish  yarn  is  not  in  the  frog  but  in 
the  character  of  the  man  who  is  supposed  to  tell  about  it.  A 
real  Western  character  tells  the  story  in  living  tones. 

Mark  Twain's  Personal  Observations. — From  this  point 
on,  Mark  Twain's  work  falls  roughly  into  two  classes,  of 
which  the  more  important  contains  the  books  filled  with  his 
rambling  observations  on  men  and  manners.    Their  titles 


472  American  Fiction  Since  1860 

indicate  the  subject-matter :  Life  on  the  Mississippi,  Roughing 
It,  A  Tramp  Abroad,  Innocents  Abroad,  Following  the  Equator. 
They  are  largely  autobiography  of  a  very  free-and-easy  sort. 
On  a  rather  tenuous  narrative  thread  are  strung  descriptions, 
amusing  episodes,  essays  in  satire  suggested  thereby,  and 
occasionally  serious  commentaries  on  the  ways  of  the  world. 
These  books  are  uneven  in  quality,  and  quite  without  struc- 
ture, if  by  structure  is  meant  a  plot.  Yet  the  reader  is  lured 
on  by  the  intrinsic  interest  of  passage  after  passage.  When  he 
has  once  really  started,  even  if  occasionally  the  narrative  does 
seem  to  flag,  he  is  reluctant  to  stop,  for  fear  of  missing  some- 
thing good  on  the  next  page. 

The  Short  Stories  and  Novels. — The  other  group  includes 
his  stories,  long  and  short.  The  best  of  these  are  simply 
modifications  of  the  personal  anecdotes  just  mentioned. 
Tom  Sawyer  and  Huckleberry  Finn  are  annals  of  the  kind 
of  boy  life  through  which  the  author  himself  had  passed. 
PudoVnhead  Wilson  was  a  little  more  mature  member  of  the 
same  generation.  The  Gilded  Age  (written  in  collaboration 
with  Charles'  Dudley  Warner)  was  a  series  of  observations, 
as  far  as  Mark  Twain's  contribution  goes,  on  the  Middle 
West  in  which  he  had  grown  up.  They  all  deal  with  the  un- 
polished life  of  a  new  and  growing  country,  not  shrinking 
from  the  unpleasant  as  they  introduce  the  corner-loafer,  the 
cheap  promoter,  the  risky  financier,  and  the  unscrupulous 
politician.  So  keen  and  biting  is  their  satire,  not  only  on 
fallible  human  nature  in  general,  but  also  on  definite  Ameri- 
can conditions  and  institutions,  that  one  might  carelessly 
assume  that  the  novelist  was  in  despair  about  his  country. 
The  most  aggressive  portions  of  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  with 
which  Dickens  offended  his  American  friends,  are  no  harsher 
than  many  pages  to  be  found  in  The  Gilded  Age.  Yet,  in 
truth,  A  Connecticut  Yankee  in  King  Arthur's  Court  and 
Prince  and  Pauper  show  that  if  there  be  any  failing  of  judg- 
ment it  is  to  be  found  in  the  overzealousness  with  which  Mark 
Twain  upholds  democratic  theory  and  turns  to  ridicule  the 
romantic  traditions  of  court  and  castle. 

Characteristics  of  Mark  Twain. — The  element  which 
chiefly  marks  his  writings  is  his  own  buoyant  individuality. 


Aspects  of  Contemporary  Fiction         473 

He  is  one  of  the  great  comic  story-tellers.  Although  he  has 
written  on  "How  to  Tell  a  Story,"  his  own  gift  as  he  exercises 
it  is  an  incommunicable  thing.  His  eye  is  keen  for  "copy" 
as  he  goes  through  the  world.  He  has  the  journalistic  sense 
developed  to  an  extraordinary  degree,  and  this  journalistic 
sense  involves  not  only  seeing  things  from  an  external  and 
superficial  point  of  view,  but  also  interpreting  them  with 
firm,  sure  touch,  and  finally  presenting  the  results  in  a  simple, 
effective,  intelligible  style.  Mark  Twain  is  a  critic  as  well 
as  a  jester;  his  contribution  to  American  fiction  comes  from 
an  application  of  his  twofold  powers  to  the  presentation  of 
the  Western  life  of  the  mid-century. 

Two  Kinds  of  Realism. — An  evident  difference  exists  be- 
tween the  realism  of  Howells  and  James  as  contrasted  with 
that  of  Bret  Harte  and  Mark  Twain.  In  the  one  case  the 
Eastern  writers  restricted  themselves  to  a  portion  of  life  which 
was  separated  from  the  rest  by  social  lines,  dealing  for  the 
most  part  with  the  well-to-do  members  of  a  conservative  so- 
ciety, and  for  the  most  part  excluding  the  harsh  and  common 
types.  The  Western  writers  limited  their  field  of  vision  as 
well;  but  since  they  were  dealing  with  little  towns  instead  of 
great  cities,  they  succeeded  in  their  endeavor  to  portray  the 
life  of  the  whole  community.  Both  "schools"  have  de- 
veloped many  writers  and  many  good  stories,  but  of  the  two 
kinds  that  after  the  fashion  of  Bret  Harte  and  Mark  Twain 
has  become  far  the  more  popular  both  among  writers  and 
readers.  There  is  no  part  of  the  country,  North,  South,  East, 
or  West,  which  has  not  of  late  been  plentifully  expounded  in 
fiction.  Every  kind  of  town  and  every  kind  of  citizen  has 
come  in  for  the  attention  of  a  delighted  book  and  magazine- 
reading  American  public. 

Aspects  of  Contemporary  Fiction. — Nor  is  this  all.  Of  late 
the  country  has  been  passing  through  a  period  of  national 
self-consciousness,  during  which  it  has  been  absorbed  not  only 
in  the  way  it  looked  but  also  in  the  way  it  was  behaving. 
Questions  of  social  conduct  as  they  affected  business,  politics, 
the  bar,  the  school,  and  the  church  have  been  in  everybody's 
mind.  The  problems  of  how  to  hold  in  check  the  baser  human 
instincts  of  selfishness  and  insincerity,  and  how  to  promote 


474  American  Fiction  Since  1860 

the  feeling  for  business  integrity  and  civic  righteousness,  have 
attracted  the  novelists  as  well  as  the  legislators  and  preachers 
and  teachers.  It  is  natural  that  this  should  be  so.  The 
present  literature  of  affairs  owes  its  being  to  the  awakened 
interest  of  the  people  in  the  vital  questions  of  their  own  com- 
munity life;  and  it  is  very  interesting  while  it  lasts.  But 
literary  history  shows  beyond  peradventure  that  the  most 
permanent  kind  of  national  literature  is  that  which  ''deals 
with  what  is  national  and  local  in  a  way  that  is  natural  and 
universal."  Much  of  what  is  written  to-day  could  be  under- 
stood in  a  hundred  years  only  with  the  aid  of  footnotes  and 
historical  introductions.  That  of  American  fiction  which 
has  most  of  human  nature  in  it,  must  outlive  the  part  which 
is  for  the  most  part  interesting  merely  because  of  its  relation 
co  current  events. 


REVIEW  OUTLINE.— Note  the  fact  that  the  three  great  American 
fiction  writers  who  did  their  work  before  the  Civil  War  were  all  writing 
in  a  different  vein  from  the  most  popular  story-tellers  of  the  present 
generation.  Define  realism.  In  what  field  does  William  Dean  How- 
ells  chiefly  find  his  characters?  What  is  his  habit  and  point  of  view 
in  connection  with  the  conclusions  of  his  stories  ?  What  is  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  realism  of  character  portrayal  and  the  realism  of 
social  reform  ?  Mention  several  books  of  Mr.  Howells  which  fall  into 
each  of  these  classes.  In  what  respects  is  the  work  of  Henry  James 
comparable  to  that  of  Mr.  Howells?  In  what  way  does  he  carry  the 
process  of  realism  even  farther?  In  what  respect  is  his  outlook  upon 
life  rather  more  limited  ? 

What  was  the  general  character  of  Californian  society  in  the  years 
following  the  Civil  War,  and  what  unjust  generalization  is  frequently 
made?  How  does  the  nature  of  the  life  out  there  give  rise  to  a  new 
kind  of  realistic  story  ?  What  were  the  circumstances  of  Bret  Harte's 
first  success  ?  What  is  the  significance  of  the  respective  attitudes  of 
the  West  and  the  East  to  his  first  story  immediately  after  its  appear- 
ance ?  What  variety  of  Western  experiences  did  Samuel  L.  Clemens 
have  up  to  the  time  of  his  first  famous  story?  In  what  books  does  he 
recount  directly  his  own  personal  experiences.  What  story-books  are 
less  informal  in  structure  and  less  personal  in  quality  but  still  full  of  the 


Reading  Guide  475 

West  in  which  he  grew  up  ?  What  books  develop  the  attitude  of  an 
American  toward  the  traditions  of  the  Old  World  ?  Is  Mark  Twain's 
attitude  in  this  respect  representative  of  Americans  as  a  whole?  In 
what  different  ways  did  the  Eastern  novelists  and  the  Western  novelists 
limit  the  field  of  life  from  which  they  drew  their  material  ?  Can  it  be 
said  that  one  of  these  pairs  has  had  more  followers  than  the  other  ? 

What  has  been  a  strong  tendency  in  the  fiction  of  the  last  few  years  ? 
Why  is  this  tendency  a  natural  one?  Is  fiction  which  deals  with  local 
and  contemporary  problems  likely  to  achieve  permanency?  What  is 
the  test  ? 

READING  GUIDE.— A  useful  book  for  the  general  problems 
raised  in  this  chapter  is  "A  Study  of  Prose  Fiction"  by  Bliss  Perry 
(Houghton,  Mifflin).  The  field  is  too  broad  and  the  time  for  extensive 
reading  in  a  school  course  too  limited,  to  make  a  detailed  reading  list 
of  immediate  value.  Good  representative  stories  of  the  four  men 
specifically  mentioned  are  "The  Rise  of  Silas  Lapham,"  by  Howells; 
"The  American,"  by  Henry  James;  "Tom  Sawyer,"  by  S.  L.  Clemens 
(Mark  Twain),  and  ''The  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp,"  by  Bret  Harte. 


INDEX 


Abbot,  The,  341 

Abbotsford,  338 

Absalom  and  AchUophd,  163 

'  Abraham  Davenport,"  435 

"Abt  Vogler,"  319 

Adam  Bede,  358,  360 

Adams,   Parson,  in  Joseph  Andrews, 

216,  406 
Addison,  Joseph,  176,  183,  187,  192, 

195,   199,   227,   281,   291,   373,   378, 

404;  his  life,  183;   his  style,  185 
"Address  to  the  De'il,"  232 
"  Address  to  the  Irish  People,"  266 
"Adonais,"  228,  269,  272,  310,  314 
Advancement  of  Learning,  134 
Age  of  Reason,  The,  394 
Alcestis,  46 

Alchemist,  The,  120,  121 
Alcott,  Amos  Bronson,  423 
"  Alexander's  Feast,"  165 
Alfoxden,  252 
Alfred,  King,  18 

Algrind,  in  The  Shepherd's  Calendar,  81 
Alhambra,  The,  403 
"  Alisoun,"  35 
All  for  Love,  170 
Allworthy,  Mr.,  217 
Alton  Locke,  356 
Amelia,  217,  218 
America  Independent,  395 
American  Scholar,  The,  418 
"  Amoretti,"  81 

"  Ancient  Mariner,  The,"  244,  246-248 
"  Andrea  del  Sarto,"  319 
Andreas,  15 

Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle,  The,  20 
Anglo-Saxon  Poetry,  3-9,  11 
Anglo-Saxons,  The,  1-3,  369 
Anne,   Queen    of    England,  174-176, 

177, 193 
"  Annus  Mirabilis,"  163 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,  114,  116 
Antiquary,  The,  341,  342 
Antonio,  112 
Apollyon,  153 
April  Hopes,  468 
Arbuthnot,  188 
"Arcades,"  145 
Arcadia,  76,  85 
Areopagitica,  142 
Ariel,  118 


Ariosto,  83,  141 

Arnold,    Matthew,    273,    290,    325, 

328,  374,  448;    life,  322;    as  a  poet. 

323;   as  a  prose  writer,  324 
Artegall,  Sir,  in  Faerie  Queene,  83 
Arthur,  in  King  John,  111 
Arthur,  King,  12,  31,  32,  141,  146,  210, 

310;  in  Morte  d' Arthur,  58 
Arthur   Dimmesdale,    in    The  Scarlet 

Letter,  427 
"Astraea  Redux,"  163 
Astrophel  and  Stella,  76 
As  You  Like  It,  94,  112 
Atlantic  Monthly,  442,  467,  470 
Augustan  Age,  The,  175,  224,  225 
"  Auld  Lang  Syne,"  234 
Aurora  Leigh,  322 
Austen,  Jane.  335-337 
Autocrat  of  the  Hreakfast  Table,  442 
"Autumn  Woods,"  408 

Bacon,  Francis,  78,  161,  291,  371; 
his  life  and  character,  132;  his  sys- 
tem, 133;  essays,  134;  style,  135 

Baeda,  14 

Balaustion's  Adventure,  316,  319 

Balfour  of  Burley,  343 

"Ballad  of  Agincourt,"  73 

Ballads  of  15th  century,  57 

"Ballad  of  the  Oysterman,"  441 

Balle,  John,  52 

Balmawapple,  Laird,  341 

Barabbas,  in  The  Jew  of  Malta,  101 

Bard,  The,  227 

Bardell,  Widow,  in  Pickwick,  346 

Barry  Lyndon,  350 

Battle  of  the  Books,  The,  1/6 

"Battle  of  Brunanburh,"  20 

"Battle  of  Maldon,"  20 

Bay  Psalm  Book,  The,  384 

"Bean  Field,  The,"  422 

Beaumont,  Francis,  123,  372 

Becket,  306 

Bede  (The  Venerable  Bede),  14 

Berkeley,  Lord,  177 

Belch,  Sir  Toby,  112 

"  Beleaguered  City,  The,"  446 

Belfry  of  Bruges  and  Other  Poems,  445 

Bennet,  Lydia,  in  Pride  and  Prejudice, 
336 

Bennet,  Mr.,  in  Pride  and  Prejudice,  338 


477 


478 


Index 


Beowulf,  4 

Beowulf,  the  poem,  4-8,  369,  370 

Bible,  The,  53 

"  Biglow  Papers,"  438 

Bishop  Blougram's  Apology,  316 

Blake,  William,  229,  373 

Blank  verse,  69,  99,  149,  169,  228,  311, 

372 
Bleak  House,  349 
Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon,  A,  314 
Blithedale  Romance,  The,  428 
Boccaccio,  45,  47 
Bolingbroke,  174,  177,  188,  192 
Book  Concerning  Piers  the  Plowman, 

49,  54,  55,  56 
Book  of  the  Duchesse,  43 
Book  of  Martyrs,  71 
Booth,  Capt.,  in  Amelia,  218 
Border  Minstrelsy,  258 
Boswell,  James,  196,  199 
Bracebridge  Hall,  403 
Bradford,  William,  381,  384 
Bradstreet,  Anne,  385 
Bradwardine,  Baron,  341 
Bride,  264 

"  Bridge  of  Sighs,"  283 
Bridge  water,  Earl  of,  145 
"Brigs  of  Ayr,"  235 
British  Prison  Ship,  395 
Britons,  The,  10 
Brobdingnag,  180 
Brook  Farm,  423 
Bronte,  Charlotte,  355,  356 
Bronte,  Emily,  355,  356 
Brown,  Charles  Brockden,  395,  396 
Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  135,  136 
Browning,  Elizabeth  Barrett,  315, 

316,  320-322,  324 
Browning,    Robert,    277,    283,    290, 

298,  312-320,  322,  374 
Brut,  30,  310 
Brute  Neighbors,  422 
Bryant,  William  Cullen,  407-410, 

443 
Bulwer  Lytton,  Edward,  283,  344, 

350 
Bumble,  in  Oliver  Twist,  348 
Bunyan,    John,    138,    150,    151-153, 

168,  169,  210,  212,  353,  371 
Burbage,  James,  97,  108 
Burke,  Edmund,  195,  201-204,  242, 

373 
Burns,   Robert,  230-236,  242,  254, 

373,  391 
Burroughs,  John,  422 
Burwell  Papers,  380 
Butler,  Samuel,  168 
Byron,  Lord,  242,  253,  259,  265,  268, 

269,  283,   291,  374,  447;    life,   260; 

Eastern  tales  and  dramas,  262;    as 

a  descriptive  poet,  263;  as  a  satirist, 

263;  relation  to  his  age,  264 


Byron,   Miss  Harriet,   in  Sir   Charles 

Grandison,  214,  215 
"By  the  Fireside,"  320 


Caedmon,  14,  370 

Caesar,  114 

Cain,  262 

Caleb  Williams,  222,  396 

"  Caliban  upon  Setebos,"  319 

Calidore,  Sir,  in  Faerie  Queens  83 

Camberwell,  312 

Camelot,  31,  32 

"  Campaign,  The,"  183 

Canterbury  Tales,  44,  47-51,  162 

Carew,  Thomas,  136,  137 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  56,  248,  253,  254, 
283,  290,  292,  302,  307,  315,  316, 
324,  328,  340,  356,  374,  413,  458; 
early  life,  295;  later  life  in  London, 
296;  his  personality,  299;  spirit  of 
his  work,  300;  his  style,  301 

Carton,  Sidney,  349 

Casa  Guidi  Windows,  315,  322 

"Castaway,  The,"  229 

Castle  of  Indolence,  The,  226 

Castle  of  Otranto,  The,  222 

Castlewood,  Lady,  355 

Cataline,  120 

Catherine,  350 

Cato,  184 

Cavalier  Poets,  136,  168 

Caxton,  58,  67 

Cenci,  The,  268 

"  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade,"  73,  307 

Charles  I,  130,  131,  137,  142,  168,  381 

Charles  II,  124,  131,  142,  160,  163,  167. 
168,  372 

Chartism,  298 

Chatterton,  Thomas,  228,  258 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  27,  32,  39,  40, 
41,  52,  56,  57,  65,  66,  162,  165,  185, 
217,  278,  307,  370,  378,  379;  his  life, 
42;  influenced  by  the  Roman  de  la 
Rose,  43;  on  the  Continent,  43;  du- 
ties as  controller,  43;  middle  life  and 
Italian  period,  43;  English  period 
and  Italian  influence,  44;  Legend  of 
Good  Women,  44,  45;  Canterbury 
Tales,  47-51;  his  art,  47;  contrasted 
with  Langland,  54 

Chesterfield,  Lord,  195 

Childe  Harold,  262,  263 

"Childe  Roland,"  319 

Christ,  15 

"Christabel,"  244,  248 

Christian  Hero,  The,  188 

"Christmas  Eve,"  320 

"Christ's  Hospital  Five  and  Thirty 
Years  Ago,"  243 

Citizen  of  the  World,  The,  197,  199 

Clarissa.  214,  215,  218 


Index 


479 


Clemens,  Samuel  Langhorne.  See 
Mark  Twain 

Cleopatra,  114 

Clerk  of  Oxford,  The,  in  Canterbury 
Tales,  49 

Cloister  and  the  Hearth,  The,  344 

Coffee  houses,  165,  176,  184,  224 

Coleridge,  Samuel,  Taylor,  229, 
242,  253,  258,  259,  283,  340,  373, 
374;  early  life,  243;  friendship  with 
Wordsworth,  244,  413;  "Lyrical 
Ballads,"  246;  later  life,  247;  poetic 
characteristics,  248 

Colin  Clout's  Come  Home  Again,  79 

Collier,  Jeremy,  170,  201 

Collins,  Mr.,  in  Pride  and  Prejudice, 
336 

Colombe's  Birthday,  314 

Comedy  of  Errors,  The,  109 

"Come  live  with  me  and  be  my  love," 
86 

Common  Sense,  393 

"Complaint  of  Chaucer  to  his  Empty 
Purse,  The,"  44 

"Complete  Angler,"  139 

Comus,  122,  141,  145,  149 

Concord  Days,  423 

Conduct  of  the  Allies,  The,  177 

Confessions  of  an  English  Opium- 
Eater,  281,  282 

Congreve,  William,  170 

Conquerors  of  America  Shut  up  in 
Boston,  The,  394 

"Contemplation,"  385 

Cooper,  James  Fenimore,  396-407,466 

"Corinna  going  a-Maying,"  138 

Corneille,  161 

Corsair,  The,  260,  264 

"Cotter's  Saturday  Night,  The,"  232, 
234,  436 

"Cotton  Boll,  The,"  462 

Courtship  of  Miles  Standish,  The,  446 

Coventry,  106 

Coverdale,  Miles,  71,  371 

Coverley,  Sir  Roger  de,  185 

Cowper,  William,  228,  229,  373,  391 

Crawley,  Rawdon,  353 

Crevecceur,  John  Hector  St.  John  de, 
392,  421 

Crisis,  The,  393 

"Cristina,"  320 

Critic,  The,  201 

Cromwell,  124,  130,  131,  142,  160,  163, 
372 

Cromwell  (Carlyle),  298 

"Crossing  the  Bar,"  307 

"Cry  of  the  Children,  The,"  322 

"Cuckoo  Song,"  34 

Curse  of  Kehama,  The,  258 

Cursor  Mundi,  32 

Cynewulf,  15,  370 

Cynthia,  78 


Daisy  Miller,  468 

Dana,  Richard  H.,  409 

Danes,  The,  18-20,  370 

Daniel  Deronda,  358,  360,  361 

Dante's  Divine  Comedy,  447 

"  Dark  Ladie,  The,"  244 

Darwin,  289,  309 

David  Copperfield,  348 

Day  of  Doom,  The,  384 

Deans,  Jeanie,  342 

"  Death  in  the  Desert,  A,"  320 

"Death  of  Blaunche  the  Duchesse," 

43 
"  Death  of  Byrhtnoth,"  20 
Dedlock,  Lady,  in  Bleak  House,  349 
Deerslayer,  The,  405 
Defarge,    Mme.,    in    A    Tale   of    Two 

Cities,  348 
Defence  of  Poesy,  77 
Defoe,    Daniel,    210-213,    215,    217, 

344,  373 
Dekker,  Thomas,  9& 
Demogorgon,  in  Prometheus  Unbound, 

271 
"  Deor's  Lament,"  4 
De  Quincey,  Thomas,  253,  279,  281, 

282,  374,  416 
Desdemona,  115 

Deserted  Village,  The,  197,  200,  391,  436 
Devereux,  Lady  Penelope,  76 
Dhu,  Evan,  342 
Dial,  The,  423,  424 
Dickens,  Charles,  290,  298.  344,  374, 

378,429,466,472;  life,  344;  relation 

to  the  public,  345;    characters,  346; 

his  purpose,  348;   his  plots,  349 
Dictionary    of    the    English    Language 

(Johnson's),  195 
Diedrich  Knickerbocker,  410 
Discourses  in  America,  323,  325 
Discovery  of  Guiana,  78 
"  Dissertation  on  Roast  Pig,"  280 
"Divinity  School  Address,"  418 
Doctor  Faustus,  98,  100,  101 
Dombey,  Florence,  348 
Donatello  in  The  Marble  Faun,  429 
Don  Juan,  262,  263 
Don  Sebastian,  170 
"  Dover  Beach,"  323 
Drama,  The,  90,  161,  209;    its  native 

origin,  90;   classic  influence,  95;  the 

Elizabethan,  96,  280;    decline,  123; 

during  the  Restoration,  169,  201 
Dramatic  Lyrics,  314 
Dramatic  Romances,  314 
Drapier's  Letters,  The,  177 
Drayton  Michael,  73 
"  Dream  Children,"  280 
"Dream-Fugue,"  282 
"Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes," 

122 
Drury  Lane  Theatre,  186,  201 


480 


Index 


Dbyden,  John,  161,  162,  169,  170, 
175,  184,  192,  220,  291,  372;  early 
life,  163;  satires,  163;  later  life,  165; 
as  a  critic,  165;  character,  166;  his 
poetry,  166;   his  prose,  167 

"Duncan  Gray,"  234 

Dunciad,  The,  188,  192 

"  Easter  Day,"  320 

Ecclesiastical  History  of  the  English 
People,  14,  19 

Edinburgh  Review,  260,  291 

Edward  II,  98,  101 

Edward  III,  39 

Edward  VI,  70 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  387,  388 

Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard,  227, 
391,  436 

"  Elegy  of  Mr.  Partridge,  An,"  179 

Elene,  15 

Eliot,  George,  185,  290,  344,  375, 
430;  life,  357;  novels,  358;  as  a  real- 
ist, 358;  as  a  psychologist,  360;  as 
a  moralist,  361 

Elizabeth,  Queen  of  England,  70.  75, 
77,  78,  82,  83,  95,  106,  109,  124,  129, 
131,  160,  168,  371 

Elizabethan  Age,  72,  121,  122,  153, 
160,  165,  166,  193,  209,  274,  283, 
306,  307 

Eloisa  to  Abelard,  187 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  253,  257, 
296,  307,  323,  415-420;  as  clergy- 
man, 415;  English  friends,  416;  as 
a  lecturer,  419;    influence,  420 

Endymion,  228,  269,  274,  278 

English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers, 
260 

English  Humorists  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century,  350 

English  Mail-Coach,  282 

Enoch  Arden,  306 

Enquiry  into  the  Origin  of  our  Ideas  of 
the  Sublime  and  the  Beautiful,  201 

Epilogue  to  the  Satires,  188 

"Epipsychidion,"  269 

"Epistle  of  Karshish,"  318 

"  Epistle  to  Davie,"  232 

Epistle  to  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  188,  191 

"Epithalamion,"  81 

"  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poesy,  An,"  167 

Essay  on  Man,  188,  192,  200 

"  Essay  on  Satire,"  167 

Essays,  Arnold's,  325 

Essays,  Bacon's,  134 

Essays  in  Criticism,  323 

Essays,  Macaulay's,  291 

Essays  of  Elia,  280 

Essays  on  Criticism,  187,  190 

Essex,  Earl  of,  73,  83 

"  Ethnogenesis,"  462 

Euphues  and  his  England,  73 


Euphues  or  the  Anatomy  of  Wit,  73 

Euphuism,  73,  86 

Evans,  Mary  Ann.    See  George  Eliot 

Evangeline,  446 

Eve  of  St.  Agnes,  276,  278 

"  Evelyn  Hope,"  320 

Evening  Mirror,  The,  452 

Every  Man  in  His  Humour,  120,  121 

Examiner,  181 

Excursion,  The,  253 

"Expostulation  and  Reply,"  252 

Fable  for  Critics,  406 

Fables  (Dryden),  165 

Faerie  Queene,  32,  73,  79,  81-83, 86, 311 

Fagin,  in"  Oliver  Twist,  348 

Faithful  Shepherdess,  The,  123 

Falstaff,  111,  118,  120 

"  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher,  The,"  454 

Felix  Holt,  358 

Fermor,  Miss,  in  The  Rape  of  the  Lock, 

191 
Fields,  James  T.,  427 
Fielding,  Henry,  216-219,  221,  336, 

373,  378 
"  Fight  at  Finnsburg,  The,"  8 
Fingal,  228 
First  Folio  of  Shakespeare,  The,  119, 

122 
"  Flee  fro  the  Press,"  52 
Fletcher,  John,  123,  372 
Ford,  John,  124 
"  Forest  Hymn,  A,"  408 
Foresters,  The,  306 
"  Forget  not  yet,"  69 
Fors  Clavigera,  327 
Fortunate  Islands,  The,  122 
Fortunes  of  Nigel,  343 
Four  Georges,  The,  350 
Four  P's,  The,  94 
Foxe,  John,  71 
"Fra  Lippo  Lippi,"  319 
Franklin,  Benjamin,  387-391 
Freeport,  Sir  Andrew,  185 
French  Revolution  (Carlyle),  298,  299, 

302 
Freneau,  Philip,  394,  443 
Friar  Tuck,  94 
Fuller,  Margaret,  423 
Further  Adventures  of  Robinson  Crusoe, 

The,  212 

Gammer  Gurlon's  Needle,  95 
Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  434 
"Gather  ye  rosebuds  while  ye  may," 

138 
Gawayne,  31 
Gay,  John,  188 
Gellatley,  David,  341 
"Genevieve,"  244 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  29,  58,   116, 

146.  310 


Index 


481 


George  I,  174 

George  II,  174 

George  III,  174 

Giaour,  The,  260 

Gilded  Age,  The,  472 

"Giles  Corey,"  446 

Gleeman,  the  (gleoman),  3 

Globe,  The  (theatre),  97,  108,  109 

"Gloomy  Night  is  Gathering  Fast, 
The,"  233 

Godwin,  William,  222,  266,  396 

Goethe,  264,  296 

"Gold  Bug,  The,"  453 

Goldsmith,  Oliver,  195,  197-200, 
202,  221,  373,  401,  404 

Golden  Bowl,  The, 

Goneril,  117 

Good-Natured  Man,  The,  199 

Gorboduc,  or  Ferrex  and  Porrex,  95,  99 

Gosson,  Stephen, 77 

"Governail  of  Princes,"  57 

Grace  Abounding  to  the  Chief  of  Sin- 
ners, 138,  151 

Graham's  Magazine,  452,  453 

"Grammarian's  Funeral,  The,"  319 

Grasmere,  252,  253,  281 

Gray,  Thomas,  226,  258,  391 

Greene,  Robert,  85,  98,  108 

Grendel,  6,  7 

Grindal,  Archbishop,  81 

Grub  Street,  193,  197 

Guardian,  The,  186 

Guenevere,  32 

Gulliver's  Travels,  177,  179,  180 

Guy  Mannering,  341,  342 

Guyon,  Sir,  in  Faerie  Queene,  83 


Hales,  Thomas  de,  33 

Hallam,  Arthur  Henry,  303-305 

Hamlet,  111,  112,  114,  115,  162 

"  Hanging  of  the  Crane,"  447 

Hardy,  Thomas,  94 

Harold,  306 

Harte,  Bret,  469-473 

Harvey  Birch,  406 

Hazlitt,  William,  247 

Havelock  the  Dane,  31 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  396,  424- 
430,  466;  boyhood,  424;  experience 
in  the  Custom-House,  426;  foreign 
consul,  426;   spiritual  leader,  430 

Hayne,  Paul  Hamilton,  462,  463 

Hazard  of  New  Fortunes,  A,  468 

"  Hear  the  Voice  of  the  Bard,"  229 

Heart  of  Midlothian,  342 

Henry  IV  of  England,  40 

Henry  IV,  111 

Henry  V,  111 

Henry  VI,  64 

Henry  VIII,  67-70    75,  129,  153,  372 

Henry  Esmond,  350,  352 


Herbert,  William,  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke, 108 

Heroes  and  Hero-Worship,  298,  300 

Heroic  couplet,  the,  162,  167,  200,  372 

Herrick,  Robert,  34,  136-138 

Hesperides  and  Noble  Numbers,  138 

Hester  in  The  Scarlet  Letter,  427 

Heywood,  John,  94 

Hiawatha,  446 

"Highland  Reaper,  The,"  255 

Hind  and  the  Panther,  The,  165 

Historia  Bretonum,  29 

History  of  England  (Macaulay),  291 

History  of  Fredrich  II,  298 

History  of  the  World,  Raleigh's,  78 

Hoccleve.    See  Occleve 

Hogarth,  175,  184,  216 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  440;  sa« 
tires,  441;  essays,  442 

"Holy  Fair,  The,"  235 

"Holy  Willie,"  232 

Homer,  Pope's,  190 

Homilies,  20 

Homeward  Bound,  405 

Home  as  Found,  405 

Honeycomb,  Will,  185 

Hood,  Thomas,  283 

Hours  of  Idleness,  260 

House  of  Fame,  44,  45 

House  of  the  Seven  Gables,  The,  427 

Houyhnhnms,  180,  181 

Howard,  Henry,  69.    See  Surrey 

Ho  wells,  William  Dean,  466,  467, 
468 

Hrothgar,  in  Beowulf,  4-6 

Huckleberry  Finn,  472 

Hudibras,  168,  394 

"  Hugh  of  Lincoln,"  50 

Humphrey  Clinker,  219 

Hunt,  Leigh,  273,  274,  298 

Hygelac,  5 

"  Hymn  to  Death,"  409 

"  Hymn  in  Honour  of  Heavenly  Beau- 
ty," 81 

"  Hymn  in  Honour  of  Heavenly  Love," 
81 

"Hymns  in  Honour  of  Love  and 
Beauty,"  81 

Hypatia,  357 

Hyperion,  276 

"Ichabod,"  435 

Idylls  of  the  King,  The,  306,  310 

Iliad,  The,  187 

"II  Penseroso,"  141,  144 

Imitations  of  Horace,  191 

"Imperfect  Sympathies,"  280 

Innocents  Abroad,  472 

In  Memoriam,  306,  309 

Interludes,  94 

Irving,  Washington,  401-404,  439 

Isabella,  276 


482 


Index 


"  It  is  a  Beauteous  Evening,"  253 
Ivanhoe,  343 

Jaffrey  Pyncheon  in  The  House  of  the 
Seven  Gables,  428 

James  I  of  England,  77,  116,  118,  120, 
122,  124,  130,  133,  371 

James  I  of  Scotland,  57 

James  II,  160,  169,  174 

James,  Henry,  468,  469 

Jane  Eyre,  356 

Jarvie,  Baillie,  342 

Jew  of  Malta,  The,  98 

"John  Gilpin,"  229 

Johnson,  Samuel,  166,  186,  197,  291, 
373;  his  life  and  works,  193,  196; 
his  style,  195;  compared  to  Gold- 
smith, 199 

"Jolly  Beggars,"  234 

Jonathan  Wild,  217 

Jonson,  Ben,  78,  81,  106,  166,  170, 
371,  378;  his  opinion  of  Shake- 
speare, 118,  122;  his  life,  119;  his 
plays,  120;  his  "humors,"  121;  his 
realism,  121;  his  masques,  122;  his 
lyric  gift,  122 

Joseph  Anirews,  216 

Journal  of  a  Journey  from  Boston  to 
New  York,  383 

Journal  of  the  Plague  Year,  212 

Journal  to  Stella,  177 

Judith,  15 

"  Julian  and  Maddalo,"  268 

Juliet,  110,  112,  114,  liS 

Julius  Cmsar,  113 

Keats,  John,  228,  242,  269,  270,  272, 
283,  298,  311,  314,  374,  447;  early 
life  and  poetry,  273;  his  last  volume 
and  death,  274,  275;  as  a  man,  276; 
qualities  of  his  poetry,  277 

Kenilworth,  343 

Kenilworth  Castle,  106 

Keswick,  253 

King,  Edward,  145 

King  Horn,  31 

King  James  Bible,  the,  151 

King  John,  111 

King  Lear,  116,  319 

Kingslet,  Charles,  344,  356 

King' 8  Quair,  The,  57 

Knickerbocker  History  of  New  York,  403 

Knickerbocker  Magazine,  The,  410 

Knight,  Sarah  Kemble,  383,  386 

Knight's  Tale,  32,  52,  57 

"  Kubla  Khan,"  244,  248 

Kyd,  Thomas,  98 

Lady  or  the  Tiger,  The,  468 
"  Lady  Geraldine's  Courtship,"  322 
Lady    Madeline    in    The   Fall   of   the 
House  of  Usher,  454 


Lady  Meed,  in  Piers  the  Plowman,  55 

"Lady  of  Shalott,  The,"  303,  311 

Lady  of  the  Lake,  The,  259 

Lady  Teazle,  201 

Lake  poets,  258,  279,  281 

"L' Allegro,"  141,  144,  149 

Lamb,    Charles,    187,    243,    279-281, 

283,  352 
Lamia,  276,  278 

Langland,  William,  49,  54-56,  129 
Lanier,  Sidney,  461,  462 
Laputa,  180 
Lara,  264 

Last  of  the  Mohicans,  The,  405 
Last  Days  of  Pompeii,  344 
"  Last  Fight  of  the  Revenge,"  78 
Last  Poems  (Mrs.  Browning),  322 
"  Last  Ride  Together,  The,"  320 
Latter-Day  Pamphlets,  298 
Laud,  William,  381 
Layamon,  29,  30,  310 
Lay  of  the  Last    Minstrel,   The,  258, 

290 
Lays  of  Ancient  Rome,  291 
Leatherstocking  Tales,  405 
Leaves  of  Grass,  458 
"Leech -Gatherer,  The,"  253,  255 
Legend  of  Good  Women,  44,  45 
Leicester,  Earl  of,  75,  79,  81,  83,  106, 

343 
"Letters  of  an  American  Farmer,"  391 
Lewes,  George  Henry,  358 
Libera  Nos,  Domine,  394 
Life  of  Johnson,  196 
Life  of  Nelson  (Southey),  258 
Life  of  Savage,  193 
Life  of  Schiller  (Carlyle),  296 
Life  of  Scott,  338 
Life  of  John  Sterling,  298 
Life  on  the  Mississippi,  472 
Lilliput,  180,  353 
"  Lines  in  Early  Spring,"  252 
"Lines  Written  Among  the  Euganean 

Hills,"  268 
"Litany,  The,"  138 
Literary  Club,  the,  166,  195 
Lives  of  the  English  Poets,  195 
Lockhart,  338 
"Locksley  Hall,"  306 
Lollard  movement,  53,  54,  65 
London  (by  Dr.  Johnson),  193 
Looking  Glass  for  the  Times,  381 
Long  Tom  Coffin,  406 
Longfellow,     Henry    Wadsworth, 

439,   442,  448;    education,  443;    at 

Harvard,  445;   translations,  447 
"  Lotus- Eaters,  The,"  303 
Lovelace,  in  Clarissa,  214,  215 
Lovelace,  Richard,  136,  137 
"Lover's  Message,  The,"  17 
"Love-Rune"  of  Thomas  de  Hales,  33 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,  109 


Index 


483 


Lowell.,  James  Russell,  437,  442; 
diplomat,  439;   his  versatility,  440 

Lucas,  Sir  William,  in  Pride  and  Preju- 
dice, 336 

"Luck  of  Roaring  Camp,  The,"  470 

"Lucrece,"  109 

Ludlow  Castle,  145 

"Lycidas,"  130,  141,  145,  310 

Lydgate,  John,  56 

Lyly.  John,  73,  85,  86,  98 

Lyrical  Ballads,  246,  256,  259,  373 

Lyrics,  Elizabethan,  86 

Macaulay,  Thomas  Babington,  289- 

295,  301,  374 
Macbeth,  115,  121 
MacFlecknoe,  165,  192 
M'Fingal,  394 
Macpherson,  228 
MacWheeble,  Baillie,  341 
Madame    Eglantyne,    in    Canterbury 

Tales,  48 
Magnolia,  382 
Maid  Marian,  94 

Malory,  Sir  Thomas,  58,  146,  310 
Malvolio,  112 
Manfred,  262 
Mansfield  Park,  336 
Maria,  in  Twelfth  Night,  112 
Marble  Faun,  The,  428 
Marlborough,  Duke  of,  176,  183 
Marlowe,  Christopher,  85,  86,  98, 

108,  111,  161,  371 
Marmion,  258,  259 
"  Marshes  of  Glynn,"  462 
Mather,  Cotton,  381,  382 
Mather,  Increase,  381 
"Mary  in  Heaven,"  234 
Mary,  Queen,  70,  72 
Masque  of  Blackness,  The,  122 
Masque  of  Queens,  The,  122 
Masques,  90,  110,  122,  145 
Maud,  306 

"  May  Queen,  The,"  303 
Medal,  The,  165 

Melibeus.  in  Canterbury  Tales,  51 
Men  and  Women,  315 
Menaphon,  85 

Merchant  of  Venice.  The,  112 
Mercutio,  110 
Merlin,  10 

-Merlin  and  the  Gleam,"  307 
Merope,  323 
Merrilies,  Meg,  342 
Metrical  Romances,  29 
Micawber,  in  David  Copperfield,  346 
"Michael,"  253,  256 
Middlemarch,  358,  361 
MmnLETON,  Thomas,  123 
Midnight  Consultation,  The,  394 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  109,  118 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  298,  299,  358 


MUX  on  the  Floss,  The,  358,  360 

"Miller's  Daughter,  The,"  303 

Milton,  John,  84,  122,  130,  161,  168, 
185,  224,  235,  255,  274,  291,  298, 
310,  311,  371,  372,  409;  his  youth, 
139;  life  at  Norton,  141;  public  life 
and  prose  writings,  141;  last  years, 
143;  poems.  143-150;  his  "sublim- 
ity," 140;  his  verse  and  style,  149 

Miracle  plays,  90-93 

Modern  Painters,  326,  328 

"Modest  Proposal,"  179 

Monastery,  The,  341 

Manikins,  The,  405 

Monmouth,  Duke  of,  163 

Moral.  Epistles,  188,  191 

Morality  plays,  93,  94 

More,  Sir  Thomas,  68,  181,  371 

More  Wonders  of  the  Invisible  World, 
382 

Morgain,  in  Sir  Gawane  and  the  Green 
Knight,  32 

Morris,  Dinah,  in  Adam  Bede,  360, 
361 

Morle  <P  Arthur  e,  31,  58,  304 

Morton,  Nathaniel,  381 

Mr.  Sludge  the  Medium,  316 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing,  112 

Munera  Pulveris,  326 

"Murders  of  the  Rue  Morgue,  The," 
453 

"My  Last  Duchess,"  319 

"My  Lute  Awake,"  69 

"My  Star,"  320 

Nabob  of  Arcot's  Debts,  The,  202 

Nash,  Thomas,  85.  98 

Natty  Bumppo,  406 

Nature,  416 

"Necessity  of  Atheism,  The,"  266 

Neptune's  Triumph,  122 

Nether  Stowey,  244 

"  Never  the  Time  and  Place,"  316 

Newes  from  Virginia,  384 

Nevxomes,  The,  350 

New  English  Canaan,  The,  381 

New  England  Lyceum.  419 

Northanger  Abbey,  336 

Noma  of  the  Fitful  Head,  342 

Norman  Conquest,  the,  25,  et  seq.,  370 

Northumbria,  13,  18,  370 

Norton,  Charles  Eliot,  440 

Norton,  Thomas,  95,  99 

Novel,  The,  152,  213,  214;  its  origin, 
209;  romantic,  221,  222;  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  335,  et  seq. 

Novum  Organum,  134 

"Obermann,"  324 
Oberon,  110 
Occleve,  Thomas,  56 
Ochiltree,  Edie,  342 


484 


Index 


"  Ode  to  Duty,"  253 

"Ode  on  the  Intimations  of  Immor- 
tality, The,"  253,  257 

"  Ode  to  a  Skylark,"  269.  272 

"Ode  to  the  West  Wind,"  268,  272 

Odyssey  (Pone's),  187 

"CEnone,"  303 

"Old  China,"  280 

Old  Curiosity  Shop,  348 

Old  King  Cole,  94 

Old  Mortality,  341,  343 

Oliver  Twist,  348,  350 

Olivia,  in  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  221 

"On  First  Looking  into  Chapman's 
Homer,"  274 

"  On  a  Grecian  Urn,"  276-278 

"  On  Melancholy,"  276 

"On  the  Receipt  of  my  Mother's 
Picture,"  229 

"On  the  Tenure  of  Kings  and  Magis- 
trates," 142 

**  On  Translating  Homer,"  325 

"One  Word  More,"  320 

Origin  of  Species,  289 

Orlando  Furioso,  83 

Orphic  Sayings,  423 

Osborne,  Amelia,  in  Vanity  Fair,  353, 
354 

Ossian,  228,  258 

Othello,  115,  117,  121 

"Outcasts  of  Poker  Flat,  The,"  471 

Over  the  Tea-Cups,  442 

Pageants,  90,  110 

Paine,  Thomas,  393 

"Palamon  and  Arcite,"  50,  165 

Pamela,  213-216 

Paracelsus,  314 

Paradise  Lost,  143,  146-150,  153,  291, 

310,  372 
Paradise  Regained,  143, 146-150 
Parlement  of  Fowls,  44,  45,  52 
"Partridge  Predictions,  The,"  179 
"Passing  of  Arthur,  The,"  311 
Pathfinder,  The,  405 
Pastorals  (Pope's),  187 
"  Patient  Grissel,  the  Clerk's  Tale,"  51 
Patronage,  195 
Paulding,  J.  K.,  401 
Pauline,  314.  317 
Pearl,  The,  33 
Pecksniff,  346 
Peebles,  Peter,  342 
Peele,  George,  85,  86,  98,  108 
Pendennis,  350 

Pepys,  Samuel,  168,  169,  383 
Percy,  Bishop,  228 
"  Percy  and  Douglas,"  77 
Perdita,  117 
Peregrine  Pickle,  219 
Periodicals,  early,  181,  193 
Peterborough,  20,  26 


Petrarch,  45,  51,  69 

Petre,  Lord,  in  The  Rape  of  the  Lock, 
191 

Philistinism,  325 

"  Philosophy  of  Composition,  The,"  453 

Philostrato,  45 

Phamix,  The,  16 

Picaresque  romances,  210 

Pickwick,  346,  348,  350 

Pilot,  The,  405 

"Pictor  Ignotus,"  319 

"  Piers  the  Plowman,"  49,  55-56 

Pilgrim's  Progress,  The,  41,  152,  168, 
210,  212,  291,  372 

Pioneers,  The,  405 

Pippa  Passes,  314,  317 

Pirate,  The,  342 

"  Pit  and  the  Pendulum,  The,"  454 

Plautus,  95,  109 

Poe,  Edgar  Allan,  396,  451-456,  466; 
life,  452:  editorial  work,  452;  char- 
acterization by  N.  P.  Willis,  452 

Poems  Before  Congress,  322 

Poems,  Chiefly  in  the  Scottish  Dialect 
(Burns),  233 

Poems  by  Two  Brothers,  303 

"Poetic  Principle,  The,"  453 

Poetical  Sketches  (Blake's),  229 

Pompilia,  315 

Ponds,  The,  422 

Poor  Richard's  Almanac,  390 

Pope,  Alexander,  161,  166,  176,  184, 
193,  196,  221,  224,  260,  373;  early 
life,  187;  limitation,  188;  Homer, 
190;  Rape  of  the  Lock,  191;  Satires, 
191;  Essay  on  Man,  192 

Portia,  112,  114 

Praeterita,  327,  328 

Prairie,  The,  405 

Precaution,  405 

Prelude,  The,  249,  253,  255 

Prick  of  Conscience,  33 

Pride  and  Prejudice,  336 

Prince  Hal,  111 

"  Prince  Hohenstiel-Schwangau,"  316 

Princess,  The,  306,  308,  327 

Prometheus  Unbound,  268,  271 

Prospero,  117,  118 

"  Prothalamion,"  81 

Puck,  110 

Pudd'nhead  Wilson,  472 

Purdie,  Tom,  341 

Puritans  and  puritanism,  75,  77  84, 
124,  129,  139,  145,  161,  168,  170 
185,  210,  212,  337,  370 

Pyramus,  110 


Queen  Mab,  266,  312 

Queen  Mary,  306 

Quentin  Durward,  343 

Quilp,  In  Old  Curiosity  Shop,  348 


Index 


485 


Racine,  161 

"  Rainy  Day,  The,"  446 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  73,  77-79,  82, 

83,  168 

Ralph  Roister  Doister,  95 

Rambler,  The,  195,  442 

Rape  of  the  Lock,  The,  187,  191 

Rasselas,  195,  197 

Reade,  Charles,  344,  429 

Red  Cross  Knight,  The,  83 

Redgauntlet,  341,  342 

Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in  France, 

203 
Reformation,  The,  45,  65,  70,  71,  73, 

84,  86,  129,  153,  371 
Religio  Laid,  165,  167 
Religio  Medici,  135 
Reliques  of  Ancient  Poetry,  228 
Remarkable  Providences,  381 

"  Reminiscences,"  Carlyle's,  299 
Renaissance,  The,  65,  et.  seep,  76,  82,  85, 

86,  95,  101,  122,  135,  153,  161,  181, 

210,  225,  371,  372;    defined,  65;    in 

Italy,  65;    in  England,  66-68 
Restoration,   The,  98,    129,    143,    150, 

152,  160-162,  167,  169,  170,  174,  372 
Return  of  the  Druses,  The,  314 
Return  of  the  Native,  94 
"  Revenge,  The,"  306,  307 
Review,  211 

"  Rhyme  of  Sir  Thopas,"  51 
Rich,  Lord,  76 
Richard  II,  40 
Richard  II,  111 
Richard  III,  64 
Richard  III,  111 
"  Richard  the  Redeless,"  55 
Richardson,   Samuel,   213-217,   221, 

373,  378 
Riddles  (Cynewulf),  16 
Rights  of  Man,  The,  393 
"Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner,  The," 

244,  246-248 
Ring  and  the  Book,  The,  315 
"  Rip  Van  Winkle,"  403 
Ripley,  Rev.  George,  423 
Rivals,  The,  201 
"  Robert  of  Lincoln,"  408 
Robin  Hood,  35,  94 
Robin  Hood  plays,  94 
Robinson  Crusoe,  212 
Roderick  Usher,  454 
Rob  Roy,  342 

Rockingham,  Marquis  of,  202 
Roderick  Random,  219,  396 
Roger    Chillingworth    in    The   Scarlet 

Letter,  427 
Rolle,  Richard,  33 
Roman  de  la  Rose,  43,  46 
Romans  in  Britain,  The,  10-12 
Romanticism,  153,  203,  222,  225-227, 

236,  246.  294.  373 


Romeo  and  Juliet,  109.  110 

Romola,  358,  361 

Rosalind,  112,  114 

Ruskin,  John,  283,  290,  298,  312,  325- 

328,  374 
Rydal  Mount,  252,  253 

Sackville,  Thomas,  95,  99 

"Sad  Fortunes  of  the  Rev.  Amos 
Barton,  The,"  358 

"Salmagundi  Papers,"  401 

St.  Albans,  133.    See  Bacon 

St.  Juliana,  15 

Samson  Agonistes,  143,  149 

Sartor  Resartus,  295,  296,  300-302 

"Saul,"  320 

Scarlet  Letter,  The,  427 

Sc6p,  3 

Scenes  of  Clerical  Life,  358 

"Scholar  Gypsy,  The,"  324 

School  for  Scandal,  The,  201 

School  of  Abuse,  The,  77 

"Scotch  Drink,"  232 

"Scots  Wha  Hae  Wi'  Wallace  Bled," 
234 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  204,  233,  242, 
253,  283,  290,  345,  350,  374;  early 
life,  337;  at  Abbotsford,  338;  char- 
acter, 340;  career  as  a  poet,  258; 
qualities  of  his  poetry,  250;  Scotch 
novels  and  characters,  341;  use  of 
history,  343;   his  example,  344 

Scriblerus  Club,  188 

Seasons,  The,  226 

Sedley,  Amelia,  353 

Sedley,  Joseph,  353,  354 

"  See  the  chariot  at  hand  here  of  love," 
122 

Sejanus,  120 

"Self- Dependence,"  324 

Selling  of  Joseph,  The,  383 

Sense  and  Sensibility,  336 

"Sensitive  Plant,  The,"  269 

Sentimental  Journey,  220 

Sesame  and  Lilies,  327 

Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,  The,  326 

Sewall,  Samuel,  382 

Shad  well,  165 

Sharp,  Becky,  353,  354 

Shaftesbury,  Earl  of,  163 

Shakespeare,  William,  69,  76,  86, 
97,  98,  120,  121,  122,  124,  139, 
161,  170,  195,  200,  224,  230,  278, 
280,  302,  312,  319,  371;  early  life, 
106;  in  London,  108;  period  of  ex- 
periment, 109;  earliest  masterpieces, 
109;  historical  plays,  111;  joyous 
comedies.  112;  sonnets,  113;  Romaa 
and  Greek  plays,  113;  great  trage- 
dies, 114-117;  last  pl&ys,  217;  cow- 
temporary  appreciation,  118;  ca»<s- 
lessness  of  fame,  iYj 


486 


Index 


Shelley,  Percy  Bybshe,  34,  228,  242, 
259,  262-264,  283,  298,  310,  312, 
340,  374;  early  life,  265-268;  in 
Italy,  268;  death,  269;  as  seen  by 
his  contemporaries,  270;  Prometheus 
Unbound,  271;  as  a  lyric  poet,  271; 
his  myth-making  power,  272 

Shepherd's  Calendar,  The,  73,  79,  81 

Sheridan,  Richard  Brinsley,  201 

She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  199 

"She  Was  a  Phantom  of  Delight,"  252 

Shirley,  356 

Shirley,  James,  124 

Shortest  Way  with  Dissenters,  The,  211 

"Short  View  of  the  Profanity  and 
Immorality  of  the  English  Stage,"  170 

Shylock,  112 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  73,  75-77,  81,  83, 
85,  371 

Silas  Lapham,  467 

Silas  Marner,  358 

Silent  Woman,  The,  120,  121 

Simple  Cobbler  of  Agawam,  381 

Sir  Charles  Grandison,  214,  215 

"Sir  Galahad  and  Queen  Guinevere," 
311 

Sir  Gawayne  and  the  Green  Knight, 
31,34 

Sir  Thomas  More,  94 

Sir  Tristrem,  31 

Sketches  by  Boz,  345,  346 

"Sketch  Book,  The,"  403 

"Skylark,"  269,  272 

"Sleepy  Hollow,"  403 

Smith,  Captain  John,  380,  386 

Smollett,  Tobias,  219,  373,  396 

Sohrab  and  Rustum,  324 

"Soliloquy  in  a  Spanish  Cloister,"  319 

"Solitary  Reaper,  The,"  253 

"Song  at  the  Feast  of  Brougham  Cas- 
tle," 253 

"  Song  of  Myself,"  458 

"Song  of  the  Shirt,"  283 

Songs  of  Innocence  and  Experience, 
229,  259 

Sonnets,  69,  76,  113 

Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese,  320,  322 

Sordello,  314 

Sorrel,  Hetty,  in  Adam  Bede,  360 

Southern  Literary  Messenger,  The,  452 

Southey,  Robert.  243,  244,  253,  258, 
281,  407 

Spanish  Student,  The.  445 

Specimens  of  English  Dramatic  Poets, 
280 

.«?7>ec*a«w,77ie,183,186,193, 195, 199,442 

"Spectre  Bridegroom,  The,"  403 

Spencer,  Herbert,  133,  358 

Spenser,  Edmund,  32.  73,  76,  79-85, 
161,  187,  224,  226,  278,  371;  his  life, 
79;  Cambridge  period,  81;  in  Lon- 
don and  Ireland,  82;  his  art,  84 


"Spring,"  422 

Spy,  The,  405 

"Stage -Players'  Complaint,  The,"  124 

Steele,  Richard,  170,  176,  183,  186, 

373 
"Stepping  Westward,"  255 
Sterne,  Lawrence,  219-221,  373 
Stevenson,     Robert     Louis,     343. 

468 
Stones  of  Venice,  326,  328 
Strafford,  314 
Strayed  Reveller,  The,  323 
Suckling,  Sir  John,  136,  137 
"Summer  Night,  A,"  324 
"Summum-Bonum,"  316 
Surface,  Joseph,  201 
Surface,  Sir  Oliver,  201 
Surprising    Adventures    of    Robinson 

Crusoe,  The,  212 
Surrey,  Earl  of,  69,  70,  83,  371 
Suspiria  de  Profundis,  282 
Swift,  Jonathan,  166,  176,  188,  193, 

203,  204,  218,  221,  353,  373;    early 

life,  176;    political  career,  177;    his 

character,    178;    Gulliver's   Travels, 

180;   his  attitude,  181 
"Swiftly    Walk    Over    the    Western 

Wave,"  272 
"  Switzerland,"  324 
Sykes,  in  Oliver  Twist,  348 

Tale  of  a  Tub,  The,  176,  179 

Tale  of  Two  Cities,  348,  349 

Tales  from  Shakespeare,  279 

Tales  of  a  Traveller,  403 

"Tales  of  the  Wayside  Inn,"  447 

Taliesin,  10 

Talisman,  The,  343 

Tamburlaine,  98-100,  101,  111,  167 

"Tarn  O'Shanter,"  234,  235 

Tapley,  Mark,  346 

Task,  The,  229 

Tasso,  141 

Tatter,  The,  183,  186,  193 

Tempest,  The,  117,  319 

Temple,  Sir  William,  176 

Tennyson,  Alfred,  73,  253,  277,  283, 
290,  298,  312,  322,  324,  327,  356, 
374;  early  life  and  poetry,  302-304; 
his  triumph,  304,  448;  later  life  and 
poetry,  306;  his  personality,  307;  his 
long  poems,  308-311;  as  a  repre- 
sentative of  his  age,  311 

Thackeray,  William  Makepeace, 
187,  290,  344,  355,  374,  378,  430 
his  life  and  temperament,  350,  352 
his  attitude  towards  the  world,  353 
his  use  of  history,  354 

"Thanatopsis,"  407,  409 

Thomson.  James,  225,  373 

Thoreau,  Henry  D.,  420-422;  com- 
pared with  Emerson,  422 


Index 


487 


"Three  Years  She  Grew  in  Sun  and 

Shower,"  252,  257 
"Thyrsis,"  424 
"  Tiger,  The,"  229 
Timber,  120 

Timrod,  Henry,  462,  463 
"Tintern  Abbey,"  252,  256 
Titus  Andronicus,  111,  230 
"  To  Althea  from  Prison,"  137 
"To  a  Fringed  Gentian,"  408 
"To  Lucasta,  on  Going  to  the  Wars," 

137 
"  To  a  Mountain  Daisy,"  232 
"To  a  Mouse,"  232 
"  To  My  Books,"  258 
"  To  a  Nightingale,"  276,  278 
"To  Psyche,"  276 
"To  a  Skylark,"  253 
Toby,  Uncle,  in  Tristram  Shandy,  220 
"Toccata  of  Galuppi,  A,"  319 
Tom  Jones,  217,  218 
Tom  Sawyer,  472 
"Tottel's  Miscellany,"  70,  86 
Toussaint  L'Ouverture,  253 
"Transcendentalism,"  413,  414 
"  Transcendental  Club,"  423 
Traveller,  The,  197,  200 
Traveller  from  Altruria,  The,  468 
Travels  of  Sir  John  MandevUle,  58 
Triamonde,  83 
Tristram  Shandy,  219-221 
Troilvs  and  Creseide,  44,  45,  52 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  114 
Trouveres,  29,  58,  310 
True  Relation  of  Virginia,  380 
Trumbull,  John,  394,  443 
Tulliver,  Maggie,  361 
Tupman,  Mr.,  346 
"Twa  Dogs,  The,"  235 
Twain,  Mark,  469,  471-473 
Twelfth  Night,  94,  112,  113 
Twickenham,  187 
"Two  April  Mornings,  The,"  252 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  109 
"Two  Voices,  The,"  304 
Tyndale,  William,  71,  371 

"  Ulysses,"  304 
Unto  This  Last,  327 
Urn  Burial,  136 
Utopia,  68,  181 

Vanity  Fair,  350 

Vanity  of  Human  Wishes,  193 

"  Venus  and  Adonis,"  109 

Vicar  of  Wakefield,  197,  221 

Victorian  Era,  277,  283,  288,  302,  311, 

328,  373 
•Village  Blacksmith,  The,"  446 
Villetle,  356 
'Vindication  of  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  A," 

179 


Viola,  112 

Virginians,  The,  350 
"Vision  of  Sin,  The,"  304 
"Vision  of  Sir  Launfal,"  438 
Voices  of  the  Night,  The,  445 
Volpone,  120,  121 
Voyage  to  Lisbon,  216 

Walden,  421,  441 

"  Waldhere,"  8 

Walpole,  Horace,  222,  226,  396 

Walsh,  William,  190 

Walton,  Isaak,  136,  139 

"Wanderer,  The,"  17 

Ward,  Nathaniel,  381 

Warner,  Charles  Dudley,  472 

Waverley,  340,  341 

"  We  are  Seven,"  252 

Webster,  John,  123,  372 

Weekly  News  from  Italy  and  Ger- 
manic 181 

Welsh,  Jane  Baillie,  296 

"  Westminster  Bridge,"  253 

Westward  Ho,  357 

Whig  Examiner,  181 

Whitman,  Walt,  451,  460,  461; 
training,  456-458;  literary  form,  459, 
460 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf,  434- 
437,  443;  abolitionist,  435;  "Snow- 
Bound"  his  greatest  poem,  436 

"  Widsith,"  3 

"  Wife's  Lament,  The,"  17 

Wildfire,  Madge,  342 

Wild  Gallant,  The,  163 

Wild,  Jonathan,  211 

Wilhelm  Meister,  296 

William  the  Conqueror,  21 

William  III,  160.  174,  177,  211 

Williams,  Edward,  269,  270 

"Willie  Brewed  a  Peck  o'  Maut,"  234 

Willis,  Nathaniel  Parker,  452 

Windsor  Forest,  187 

Winkle,  Mr.,  346 

"Winter  Piece,  A,"  408 

Winter's  Tale,  117 

"  Winter  Visitors,"  422 

Winthrop,  John.  381 

"Witch  of  Atlas,  The,"  269 

Wolfert's  Roost,  403 

Wonders  of  the  Invisible  World,  The, 
381 

Wordsworth,  William,  204.  227- 
229,  242,  244-247,  258,  259,  272. 
281,  283,  306,  323,  374,  407,  40S. 
413,  416;  early  life.  249;  real  begin- 
ning of  poetical  career,  252;  later 
life  and  poems,  252,  253;  his  nature 
poetry,  254;  his  treatment  of  human 
nature,  255;  his  mysticism,  256; 
"Ode  on  the  Intimations  of  Immor- 
tality," 257 


488  Index 


"World  Is  Too  Much  With  Us,  The."  253  Yahoo,  180,  181 

Wuthering  Heights,  356  "  Yarrow  Unvisited,"  253 

Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas,  69,  70,  83.  371  Yeast,  356 

Wycherley,  William,  170  "  Yellow  Violet,  The,"  408 

Wyclif,  John,  52-56.  58,  64,  66,  129,  Zenobia   in    The  Blithedaie    Romance 
151  428 


CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
University  of  California,  San  Diego 

DATE  DUE 

JUL  17  13bi 

jti|  2  1  1980 

DEC  3  01331 

Tec  15  Ml 

a  39 

UCSD  Libr. 

UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  117  169     1 


